


For the ones I love, I will sacrifice

by interested



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Child Abuse, Depends on how far I wanna go, Derek is still an Alpha, Derek-POV, Hurt!Stiles, I am really new at writing, I will add more tags as I go, M/M, Oblivious Scott, PAPA STALINSKI IS GOOD I SWEAR, Pack Meetings, Peter is good but still creepy, Protective Derek, STEREK I SWEAR, Slow Burn, Stiles-POV, The sheriff's name is John because I need a name and he looks like a John, alpha!Derek, but mostly Stiles-POV, maybe smut?, minor sexual abuse, please be kind!, pretty much canon divergent I guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 130,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1977645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interested/pseuds/interested
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is doing the best he can.  His best friend, a certain Scott McCall, is furiously in love with Allison Argent, resulting in a less than ideal best friend situation.  Werewolves are still a huge (inconvenient yet strangely now normal) part of his life.  But to add the metaphorical cherry to his metaphorical sundae, Derek Hale (Mr.Tall-Dark-And-Broody himself) is starting to pick up on a secret Stiles has been hiding since the time of his mother's death.  A secret he has kept from the pack, his father, and even Scott.  And though Derek makes him want to open his mouth and spill all there is to spill, Stiles can't bring himself to open up to the man. He can't.....can he?</p><p>OR</p><p>Stiles has been abused by a family member ever since his mother's death, and Derek finds out just as the beatings become the worst they have ever been.  Shit hits the fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a fic...here goes nothing! I guess if you read it and wanna comment, I would be more than happy to read them!

Stiles was thirsty. He had been playing outside all day and come on, fighting pretend goblins in order to keep pretend kingdoms safe from pretend danger was just exhausting. All afternoon he had lept, jumped, and soared through the air, swinging his mighty sword towards the evil creatures attempting to take over the castle. They had already taken princess Lydia, and it was up to the mighty Stiles to rescue her from their heinous hands. 

“Take that and that!” He had cried mid battle, thrusting his weapon into the flesh of any evil do-er who dared come near him.

But eventually, the mighty Stiles grew parched from his epic royals taking place in the backyard under the shade of a large oak tree which stood in the midst of the grass. He ceased his ruthless attack on the enemy and began to skip towards the patio doors of the house. He slid the door open and welcomed the burst of air conditioning which his body was struck with. 

“Uncle Tom?” He walked into the living room, looking for his uncle though he was no where to be seen. Stiles had been staying with his uncle more and more lately. He knew it was because of his mom. She hadn’t been feeling great the past few months and the window between her bouts of feeling unwell had been decreasing quickly. HIs daddy said it would be better for him to stay with Uncle Tom and keep him company while his mom and him visited the doctor to get some medicine. Stiles didn’t mind though; he loved Uncle Tom. 

Stiles left the living room and headed towards the stairs, turning the corner and heading down the hallway which lead to the staircase. He made his way past the front door and started up the first few steps before calling for his uncle again.

“Uncle Tom? Can I have a glass of water?” Stiles knew it would be okay, but his mom always told him it was polite to ask before doing anything when he was in someone else’s house. He looked up at the top of the stairs, waiting for an answer. When he got none, he climbed the rest of the steps and made his way towards his uncle’s bedroom. Another thing his mom always taught him was to knock before opening a door. So, being the good boy Stiles was, he gave a quite few raps against the wood grain of the door separating himself from his uncle’s bedroom. He didn't hear anything, so he pressed his ear to the door and asked if Uncle Tom was in there. This time, he heard a faint mumble come from the other side. 

Stiles gently opened the door and peaked his head in. He was really starting to get thirsty, and he just wanted some water. HIs eyes fell upon his uncle’s sleeping form on the bed. He was faced down on a pillow, lightly snoring. Stiles saw a glass in his uncle’s hand, which only made the boy thirstier. He padded across the carpet and leaned onto the edge of the mattress. 

“Psst. Uncle Tom……..PSSSSSSSTT.” Stiles gently shook his uncle’s shoulder but gained nothing but a small grumble. “Could I have a glass of water please?” Stiles giggled, poking his uncle’s cheek. When his uncle did nothing but turn his head away from the thirsty child with a groan in his direction, Stiles sighed and started to make his way back toward the door. Just as he was reaching the handle, his eyes caught a sight on the other side of the room. Sure enough, when the boy turned to his right, he saw the door to the master bathroom open, leaving the view to the sink clear. Stiles could see a tall glass on the counter near the sink. 

His mouth felt like a desert (and he knew that wasn’t possible because he did a project on deserts for Ms. Nole and his mouth clearly did not have cacti, extreme heat, or any kinds of dangerous spiders but it was an expression. He knew about those too. Expressions. Not just the face kind, but the word kind as well-CRAP he was getting distracted). All he had to do, was fill up the glass and take a nice big gulp of water. Then his mouth would be back to normal and he could go back to fighting the goblins in the back yard and saving Lydia . His uncle would be okay with it anyways, so Stiles decided to quietly sneak over to the sink, not wanting to wake his uncle from his nap. Even Stiles knew how important naps where, and knew he would never want to be woken up from his own nap, either. 

The sink was a little higher than he anticipated, and the glass was just barely within his reach. He was on his tip toes, struggling to keep a grip on the smooth glass. His eyes closed in concentration, and tongue swept across his lips to further his thought process. When what felt like hours passed by, Stiles finally felt the glass slip a little towards him and he gave a preemptive shout in happiness.

“Yes!” Stiles exclaimed. But just as the glass started tipping towards him, it started tipping too quickly and Stiles soon found himself trying to catch a plummeting glass. Though his hands shot out towards the falling cup, it seemed to miss his fingers entirely and ended up striking the hard tiled floor, resulting it glass shards flying every as it broke into many pieces. He stood there for a moment before he heard his uncle stir in the other room. He really didn’t want to wake him up since he seemed pretty tired already, but soon enough he heard his uncle’s voice. 

“What the hell is going on?!” Uncle Tom shouted. Stiles’ eyes grew wide as he heard both the harsh sound to his uncle’s voice and the bad word that mom told him to never use. HIs uncle appeared in the doorway, looking both sleepy and mad.

“I’m really sorry Uncle Tom, I dropped this glass and it broke. I saw you trying to take a nap and I didn’t want to bother you and I tried getting it and it slipped and now its all over the floor and I feel really bad and I will clean it up really quick I promise. I was just so thirsty.” Stiles all but rambled his duel apology and explanation. His uncle just looked at him for a moment before glancing down to the glass on the floor. 

“What the hell, dumbass?” He growled. Stiles’ eyes widened even farther at the second bad word his uncle had said. Uncle Tom looked back at the small boy, face red with anger. 

“I am really really sorry. I was just really thirsty is all.” Stiles said when his Uncle looked back at him. “I promise I can clean it up. My mom showed me how once I dropped a plate after dinner. I just need a broom and-” Stiles didn’t get to finish his statement before his uncle had grabbed his hands too tight and pulled him closer to himself, making Stiles stand somewhat in the shards of glass between the two. 

“Damn right you will clean this up. Jesus, no wonder your mom is sick. She has this kind of idiot for a son.” Uncle Tom’s breath smelled really gross to Stiles. It made him dizzy to smell whatever must have been in the man’s mouth. 

“Uncle Tom, I said i was sorr-” Stiles began, but was silenced once again when the hands tighted around his little wrists. “Ow! That hurts, Uncle Tom! Oww!” Stiles instinctively tried to back away from the pain he was feeling. 

“No no no, you aren’t getting away from this, you little shit! Clean this fucking mess up and go to bed right this instant or so help me God.” Uncle Tom yanked Stiles towards him as he released his hold, causing Stiles to fall onto the glass, hands breaking the fall. Stiles yelped in pain as he felt the shards of glass cut his hands. He just looked up at his uncle, tears in his eyes. “I can’t even look at you, you’re such a waste.” Uncle Tom walked away from the small boy, trembling on the bed of broken glass, which was slowly being covered with small amounts of the blood dripping from the child’s cut hands. 

Stiles did his best to clean up all the mess, but it was hard when his hands were so sore from all the cuts he received. Eventually, he thought it was clean enough to where his Uncle would be happy, that he left the bathroom for his own room. Just as he started to reach the room, he heard his uncle start up the stairs. 

“That fucking mess better be cleaned up!” He shouted from the staircase. Stiles quickly shut the door and jumped onto the bed, pulling the covers over his head. the small boy shook under his makeshift shelter, and tried to keep his hands safely tucked towards his chest, wincing at the stinging feeling he felt from the cuts. 

Apparently, Uncle Tom did not think the bathroom was clean enough because Stiles heard some more bad words and shouting come from his Uncle’s room before hearing footsteps get closer to his own bedroom. He began to shake harder and harder. Without another pause, his uncler flung the door open and staggered towards the boy, one fist clenched and the other holding another glass like before (this time with a brown liquid in it).

***

Stiles bolted upright in his bed. 

A dream. It was only a dream.

No. No. It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. Stiles slid his hands over his face, flinching slightly, expecting the palms to be covered in cuts from glass. When he realised there were none, he allowed himself to keep them placed against his face while trying to calm his breathing down. 

It was alright. He was safe. He was home. Stiles glanced to the clock, seeing he had to get up for school in about two hours. Sighed and swung his feet over the edge of his bed and sauntered towards the bathroom for a cup of water before going back to bed. Maybe it would help calm him down. 

Besides, he was thirsty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still on vacation, but I really wanted to get something up. I have had some ideas in my head all day about what I want to happen later in this story. Hope you all like it!

 

 

     Stiles woke up to the buzzing of his alarm clock.  He threw his hand out to stop the thing from screaming at him at such an ungodly hour.  Groaning, he blinked his eyes open at the ceiling a few times.  He was exhausted.  The nightmares had been more frequent in the past few weeks and he barely got any sleep.  Every time he would close his eyes, he was once again eight years old in his uncle’s bathroom on a bed of broken glass.  No matter how much he tried, he could still feel the phantom sting on his palms from the long since healed cuts.  Even as he remained on his bed, he found himself rubbing his hands together in an attempt to relieve himself of the irritating sensation.  

     He loved his Uncle.  He did.  The man had always been kind and patient with Stiles (something he knew was easier said than done).  Stiles jumped at any opportunity to spend time with his father’s brother.  It wasn’t uncommon for him to spend a weekend with the man when his father was swamped with work and couldn’t deal with a rambunctious Stiles.  His mother would pack up a bag for her son, and drop him off at Uncle Tom’s house with a smile and a kiss to the forehead.  Stiles would practically vibrate with excitement when he’d walk to the door.  Uncle Tom never failed to wrap the kid in a bonecrushing hug, claiming he grew a foot and a half since the last time he saw Stiles.  Stiles, of course, would note how incorrect his Uncle would be on such an extreme statement.  Uncle Tom would laugh in his hearty way, and lead them into the kitchen for some of the cookies he always had stashed away in the house.  

     His Uncle never married, never dated, never had anyone but himself in the house.  Stiles’ mom always told him Uncle Tom enjoyed having Stiles’ company to fill the silence.  She would also lovingly pinch his cheek when she continued to mention just how good he was at filling silence.

     But things changed.  Uncle Tom changed.

     Stiles didn’t notice at first.  Only after the broken glass incident, did he realize that Uncle Tom had in fact been acting differently for a while.   After that night, Stiles took the time to try and remember his uncle changing.  Even at a young age, Stiles was always looking for mysteries to solve.  He would stay up late with his father, watching old mystery movies.  They would sit and hash out their theories of “who done it”.  Stiles had more complex, if not fanciful, theories than his father, but the two enjoyed the time nonetheless.  Eventually, Stiles put together when Uncle Tom really started to be different.

     It happened after his mom went to the hospital. The day itself was a normal one.  Stiles was sitting at the kitchen counter, playing with his favorite teenage mutant ninja turtle action figures, while his mother was making some of his dad’s favorite cookies (ginger snaps).  Stiles was just starting to get into a heated battle between Michelangelo and Donatello, when he heard his mother gasp.  He looked up to see her leaning against the counter with one hand placed on her forehead.  Her eyes were shut tight in pain.  Stiles asked if she was alright, but she didn’t answer.  He kept asking but she started to slump down to the floor, not even moving when the cookies began to burn in the oven.  Stiles knew she needed to go to a doctor because he remembered when he felt really sick, his mom always took him to the hospital and see Ms. McCall.  So he called the number of Scott’s house he had long since memorized.

_“Hello?”  The other person asked._

_“Hi, this is Stiles Stilinski,” His mom always told him it was polite to mention who you are when calling someone’s house. “I really need to talk to-”_

_“Just a second Stiles, I’ll go grab Scott.”  Ms. McCall started._

_“Actually, Ms. McCall, I was calling for you.” Stiles explained.  He knew Scott’s mom worked at the hospital and would come help his mom just like she helped Stiles whenever he had hurt himself playing in the backyard (which was not as uncommon as his parents both had wished)._

_“For me?”  Ms. McCall sounded confused._

_“My mom needs your help.  Her head is hurting her and you work at the hospital and so I called you.  Remember? You helped me when I hurt my arm because I fell from the three?  You put the cast on and everything?  You remember, right?  You can help?  Please help, Ms. McCall, you have to help!”  Stiles found himself feeling more and more desperate as he went on._

_“Stiles.  Stiles!” Ms. McCall’s shouting shook Stiles out of his verbal rampage.  “Can you tell me what your mom is doing?  Where are you?”_

     Stiles went on to answer all of Ms. McCall’s questions and she was able to talk him through everything when the ambulance arrived.  When he told her that his mom was being taken away, She told him to go ahead with the EMTs and she would meet them at the hospital.  Sure enough, when Stiles arrived at the large white building, Ms. McCall was only moments behind him.  She swept him up in a swift movement, and Stiles began to finally let the tears he had been holding back fall down.  He cried into her shoulder until his father came rushing in some ten minutes later.  She passed him off and soon he was in his father’s strong arms, crying harder.  His dad just rubbed his back, whispering reassuring words into his ears.  Stiles could hear how his dad’s voice trembled, threatening to turn into sobs along with his son’s.

     That’s when they found out about his mom being sick.  The cancer was pretty invasive and the survival rate was almost non existent.  No one told Stiles though;  all he knew was that his mom was sick, and needed to keep going to the hospital after that first day.  

     Uncle Tom started acting differently after that first day, Stiles decided.  He forced himself to remember how it started slowly.  His Uncle wouldn’t talk about how tall Stiles was getting.  There would be no more hugs when the boy showed up on his front porch.  Eventually, the cookies were gone, too.  Now that Stiles was older, he could see the changes in the man much more easily than he could at such a young age.  He saw how his uncle replaced his bellowing laugh with a glass of whiskey.  Stiles could see that the kind man he once knew had transformed into an unrecognizable person once his mother got sick, and even more so after she had passed.  

     He would go over to his uncle’s house just as often as he did before his mother got sick.  If anything, he would go over more, thanks to all the overnight hospital visits she and his father would be stuck doing.   It seemed that Stiles was at his uncle’s more than he was at his own home.  In the final stages, it was as though he didn’t even live there anymore.  He would stay at his uncle’s for days at a time, sometimes a week.  And each time he went over, his uncle was worse.  Stiles no longer even wanted to see the man.  Instead of yearning for the comforting touches his uncle would offer, Stiles would shy away from any contact the man would give.  Stiles’ body would still vibrate as he walked towards the door, but not with excitement.  He would tremble with fear as he slowly walked up the long pathway leading to the front door.  Stiles knew he wouldn’t be leaving with new jokes and new laughs.  He would only leave with new bruises.  New cuts.  New nightmares.  

     A knock at his bedroom door shocked Stiles back into reality.  He glanced over at his clock and saw the time.  Shit.  He must have zoned out for longer than he thought.

     “Stiles?  You’re going to be late for school, Kiddo.”  His father’s muffled voice came through the door.

     “I’m almost ready.”  Stiles responded, voice still rough from sleep.  He listened to his father’s footsteps fade down the hall and then swung his legs out over the bed.  He leaned his elbows on his knees and gathered a little more courage to actually get dressed and ready for school.  Glancing around, he saw his schoolwork strewn across the floor; remnants of the previous night's lack of accomplishments.  He meant to finish a lot more of his assignments, but ended up crashing early.  Well.  He tried to crash.  Even with going to bed early, he woke up every hour or two from the nightmares.  He felt like he hadn’t even gone to sleep.  With a groan, he forced himself up off his bed and went through the motions of getting ready.  After he threw on some jeans, he pulled on his shirt with a target on it, covered it with a flannel and topped it off with a comfy hoodie.  His father called up to him saying his breakfast was ready.  

     Bounding down the stairs, he met his father at the kitchen counter.  His dad was already scooping up the last bit of eggs off his own plate, while Stiles’ own helping was left untouched.  

     “You’re lucky I don’t smell bacon, Dad.”  Stiles remarked as he set down at his plate.

     “Son, I am telling you.  My cholesterol is fine.”  Stiles could practically hear his dad roll his eyes.  Stiles smirked into his eggs as his dad got up to clean his plate off in the sink.  “So I wanted to let you know,”  His dad started.  Stiles could feel himself stiffen up.  Whenever his dad started off a conversation with that kind of lead in, it didn’t end well.  “It looks like that serial killer case over in the next county is in some desperate need for some extra hands.”  Sure enough, Stiles knew what would come next. “And it looks like  I am going to have to head over there for a bit to help out.”  Stiles looked at his dad, who carefully kept his eyes down on the plate he was washing; purposefully keeping his eyes from his son.  

     “How long is a bit?”  Stiles asked.  He didn’t like the sound of this.

     “A few weeks maybe.  I’ll know better when I’m actually there.”  His dad mused.  Stiles knew from the sound of his father’s voice that he was trying to make it seem like there was a possibility of it being less of a trip.  A few weeks might actually be cutting it quick.  Stiles felt his shoulders hunch in defeat.  

     “Yeah.  Okay.”  He hated when his dad had to leave like this.  Sure, Stiles was used to an empty house on most weekdays since he will be at school until the afternoon, and his dad would be at work until late that night, but at least he was sleeping there.  Having his dad be an entire county away for that long will just remind Stiles of how lonely he has been feeling lately.  

     He shouldn't feel lonely.  Maybe that’s what is so frustrating about the whole thing;  Stiles knew he shouldn’t feel like this.  His father was a loving, good, man.  He hated being separated from Stiles just as much.  And Stiles had plenty of friends.  Scott was the best friend a guy could have...even if he was lacking a bit lately thanks to Allison.  But he was attentive when he needed to be (usually), and that’s what counted. The pack itself was thriving.  Everyone was alive (somehow) and they couldn’t be happier.  Scott had Allison, Erica had Boyd, Lydia and Jackson. Isaac was happily joined at the hip to Scott (something Stiles was trying to ignore with all his heart) and even Derek seemed to be less..Derek.  Stiles couldn't blame him, though.  The dude has had a shit life up, and having a pack again is something he needed.  Stiles was glad old grumpy gills was happier than before.  But then again, it isn’t hard to be happier than a constant scowl that seems to be able to crack granite.  Whatever,  Derek Hale was something he couldn’t worry about at that time.  “I’ll just hang out here, anyway.”  He continued, not looking at his father, instead, choosing to push his eggs around his plate.

     “About that.”  His father started. “I got it all figured out.  Instead of having to sit here by yourself, I thought you would like it more if you could stay with your Uncle Tom while I’m away.”  

     Stiles felt his heart jump at the mere mention of the man.  He instinctively grasped his hands together from his memories of cuts.  He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stay calm.  The last time he had seen his Uncle, his dad was out of town for two days thanks to a convention he had to go to in Washington covering new gun safety in residential areas.  Two days.  Only two days, and Stiles had left his Uncle’s house with a sprained wrist and enough bruises to make him wear long sleeves for weeks.  Even now, some of the bad ones were still a pale yellow.  A sickly reminder of Tom’s less than gentle touch. 

     The convention was two months ago.  

     Stiles gulped and opened his eyes again. “You know, I’m almost seventeen, Dad, I can handle a couple weeks by myself.”  He couldn’t help putting some hope into his words.  He was still trying to stay calm, ignoring the panic he was feeling coil up in his chest as the seconds ticked by.  

     “I know, but I know how much you two get along and had fun a couple months ago when you stayed over.  He gets bored by himself all the time, and you could use someone to keep you from getting in trouble or hurting yourself.”  His dad chuckled at the last of his reasonings, and Stiles had to force himself not to wince at the irony.  And while he could tell his dad was trying to keep the tone light, the inflection of his voice told Stiles that there was going to be no more negotiations on the matter.  

     He couldn’t let his dad know.  He couldn’t let anyone know.  His dad was so busy with work, and lord knows Stiles is enough of a trouble when it comes to a home life.  His dad had never once faltered on being a great father when his mom passed, but Stiles could see the strain he put on his dad.  He could see the stress lines form on his face, along with the bags under his eyes, and the weariness to his step.  Tom only solidified his worries whenever he went to the man’s house.  He would be told how much a burden Stiles was, how much trouble he got his father in, how much of a disappointment he was to his mother, how him being an awful kid stopped his mother from getting better.  And as much as Stiles wanted to disagree with him, everything Tom said, just made sense.  He felt it in his bones when Tom shouted things at him.  He could feel his mind accept the hate his uncle threw at him.  As much as he loathed what his uncle did, he could not stop himself from accepting what happened to him whenever he went over to the man’s house.  Maybe it was the fact that he was eight years old when the abuse started, maybe not.  But Stiles even felt that he...deserved it.  God it was crazy.  How can he hate something so much, and still feel like it was meant to happen to him?  

     “Stiles?”  His father snapped his fingers in front of his face, drawing Stiles back to the present.  He must have missed what his father had been saying.  “You alright, son?”  His father looked a little concerned.  

     “What? Oh.  Yeah.”  Stiles rubbed his eyes.  “ Just sleepy.”  He gave a reassuring smile to his dad and went back to eating his eggs. “When do you leave?”  Stiles tried to keep his anxiety out of his voice.

     “I leave Friday.” His dad said while putting on his belt and badge.

     “Ah.”  It was Wednesday.  Two days counting that one, and then he would have to be at Uncle Tom’s.  Two days of peace.  Two days to gather up enough courage as he could manage.  “I’ll see you after you get off work tonight?”  He glanced at his father’s gun on the holster of his belt, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it when he went to work that day.  

     “Absolutely.  See you later Kiddo, don’t be late for school.  Love you.”  

     “Love you, too, Dad.”  And with that, Stiles’ dad walked out the front door, leaving the boy at to look at the breakfast in front of him, thinking about how he wasn’t hungry anymore.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost time for me to head back home, but here's another post until then! Hope this fic is going over well...comment and stuff if you want. :]

     Stiles eventually gave up on finishing his breakfast, and resigned to dumping the remains of the eggs into the sink.  The more he thought about it, the more difficult school that day seemed to become.  None of his classes were going to be especially frustrating, but his mind was already running a mile a minute.  He was going back to his uncle.  The tingle in his palms returned at the mere thought of the man, and Stiles groaned as he tried to shake the feeling out.  What happened to him all those years ago shouldn’t affect him to that day.  He should be able to live his life without having to routinely ignore fears of broken glass.  There were so many “ _shouldn’t have to’s_ ” in his life and it made him queasy.  The phrase “shouldn’t” doesn’t mean it “isn’t”.  He could tell himself over and over again how he could take a stand against his uncle.  Maybe he could tell his father of all that was going on...but it didn’t feel right.  Just as there was the little voice in his head telling him to fight, there was the much larger, more intense, voice telling him that he would be better off allowing it to continue.  There resides the horror of the entire situation.  The fact that Stiles has always known there was something he could do about his life, and yet he was helpless to ignore his feeling of worthlessness. 

     He hated his uncle for yelling at him. Beating him. Telling him how his mother’s life and death were in vain because of him being alive, and how his father’s difficulties all stem from having a fuck up for a son. He _hated_ him for it.  But maybe more than hating his uncle, Stiles hated himself.  Because no matter how long he tried to convince himself there were other sides to his story, every single word and blow coming from the other man was deserved.

     Stiles’ phone buzzed in his pocket, and he didn’t have to look at the screen to know who would be calling him.   

     “Good morning, Scott, and yes, I can give you a ride to school.”  He mused into the phone as he put his dish into the washer.  

      _“Dude, how did you know it was me?”_  Scott’s voice responded in his ear.

     “Because I’m psychic.  And because, Scotty, you call every morning asking the same thing. Plus there is this great thing called 'Caller ID'.”

      _“Oh…”_  Stiles could practically hear Scott blush over the phone.

     “Chill man, you know how much I dig our drives together as we make our way to the hell known as school. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”  Stiles and Scott said their goodbyes, hung up, and the boy grabbed his backpack off the kitchen floor so he could shuffle towards the front door. “Fuck.”  Stiles murmured before stepping out onto the front step and walking to his jeep.  School just wasn’t going to be easy.  

     When Stiles arrived no more than the exact ten minutes he predicted at the McCall’s home, Scott was already sitting on his porch, waiting.  He gave Stiles an over dramatic wave and a puppy dog smile before he got up and jogged towards the jeep.  He climbed into the passenger side and slung his bag onto his lap.

     “Dude,” Stiles chuckled. “ You are such a dork.”  He could still see how funny his best friend looked with is arm frantically waving above his head with an ear to ear smile on his face.

     “Shut up.  You love me.”  Scott beamed.  

     “Eh,” Stiles shrugged.  “It’s debatable.”  Scott rolled his eyes and the two pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the school. 

     It wasn’t long before the two fell into their morning routine.  Stiles would lament about how unfair Mr. Harris had been the day before, while Scott would nod in agreement and toss in his sympathetic groans whenever Stiles’ mentioned a particularly cruel act from the teacher.  Eventually the conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence.  Stiles was about to remark about another noteworthy douche moment from his least favorite Beacon Hills High School faculty member, when Scott shot him a bashful look.

     “So, uh…” Scott began. This didn’t sound good.  This definitely didn’t sound good.  Scott hadn’t even started talking yet and his puppy dog eyes were out at full strength.  “Allison wanted to hang out.”  

     That was it?  That was the reason behind Scott’s timidness?  

     “Yeeeaaah?”  Stiles glanced over to his friend “Is that bad?  You know, Scotty, people who are dating typically hang out together sometimes.”  Stiles joked.  When Scott didn’t laugh or even playfully scoff, Stiles looked back over at the kid.

     “She wants to hang out on Thursday night…” Scott’s face was trained on his backpack still on his lap.   

     The two of them had planned for the past three weeks on seeing the new superhero movie everyone was pumped for on the Thursday premire that week.  Stiles had already bought the tickets, though Scott didn’t know that.  Stiles looked back at the road, and blinked a few times before speaking.

     “Oh.”

     “Yeah.”  Scott’s voice was gentle when he responded.  Stiles could tell that the boy wasn’t going to go outright and ask what he was dying to ask, so Stiles took the leap for him.

     “You wanna cancel our plans.”  

     “No!  It’s just that she has been sick the past few days so she wasn’t in school and she is finally feeling better and we haven’t seen eachother since she’s been gone and-”

     “Scott, its fine.”  Stiles mumbled.  He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice but it ended up coming across as robotic and emotionless.  Of course this would happen.  If going back to Uncle Tom’s that Friday wasn’t enough for Stiles to be upset about, now he was once again being ditched by Scott for Allison.  It shouldn’t really surprise him though.  Not really, since it has been happening more and more often.  Stupid werewolves with their stupid werewolf hunting girlfriends.  

     “I feel awful about it.”  Stiles refused to look at Scott because obviously he didn’t feel so bad that he refused Allison, and stuck with their plans.

     “Scott, it’s fine.  It was just a stupid movie, anyway.”  Stiles really didn't feel like talking about it anymore.

     “I promise I’ll make it up to you!  Pick any other day and we will have a 100% bro night!  I promise.”  Stiles couldn’t help but to look over at Scott.  He was practically beaming with a smile spread over his puppy face.  Fuck.  Maybe it would be okay.  They could get some pizzas and watch old horror movies while they talked about which classic monster was the best.  It could be fun.  No allison, just the two of them.  Like old times, before werewolves had taken over their lives.  Plus, it would be the last chance to hang out before Stiles went to Uncle Tom’s.  After Friday night, Stiles would have a hard time hanging out with the same carefree attitude as he would beforehand.  Stiles would probably be too sore to do much besides go to school and the two weekly pack meetings, if he was being honest with himself.  

     “Okay.  How about tonight?  We can watch movies and have pizza.  Extra pepperoni like you love.”  Stiles gave a smile back to the boy, but it didn’t last long when he saw Scott’s face tense up.  Now what?

     “I….I..uh, can’t..tonight.”  Scott was practically melting in his seat at the admission.  “Deaton is making me work tonight since we pretty much tore apart the clinic looking for mountain ash to stop that omega that came through the territory the other week.  I’m going to be there all night.”  His eyes were back on his school supplies again.  Stiles let out a long breath and looked back towards the road.  They could see the school from where they now were.  

     “Oh.  Yeah.  Um, okay.  Yeah, thats cool.”  Stiles officially gave up trying to make the day better.  It was just going to be a shit day before a shit weekend before a shit month.  He could feel the coil of panic tighten in his chest even more.  

     “How about Friday!” Scott quickly piped up.  Stiles didn’t bother shifting his eyes to the boy.  He was much too tired already for trying to compete for Scott’s attention with Allison.

     “I can’t.  My dad is going out of town for work and I gotta stay with my uncle until he gets back.”  

     “Your uncle Tom?  That’s awesome!  You love him!”  Scott was smiling again as they pulled into the parking lot.  Stiles never mentioned how Uncle Tom had changed over the years.  For all Scott knew, the man was still a source of love in Stiles' life.  When Stiles finally accepted the man he once knew was gone, it was far too late to admit to his friend about how he had been noticing a difference in his uncle.  Besides, if Stiles talked about how much he hated his uncle, Scott would just get curious.  And a curious Scott is a dangerous Scott.  Sure the kid was unobservant when it came to his own dickish friendship behavior towards Stiles, but Scott was nothing if not loyal.  If he found out about Stiles being hurt so often by someone in his life, the beta werewolf would probably cause more harm than good in his ripping and tearing of various human’s body parts.

     Another (much darker) reason (and one Stiles hated to admit) that he didn’t want Scott to know is because a small part of Stiles was afraid that if Scott knew Stiles was covered in bruises after a visit with Uncle Tom, he might decide to hurt him as well.  Stiles hoped that Scott would never intentionally hurt him, but the idea that seeing someone else punish Stiles could potentially give Scott the same inclination, was terrifying.  Stiles didn’t think he could handle it if Scott finally saw how much of a fuck up Stiles really was.  Uncle Tom and his Dad knowing was bad enough.  If Scott finally paid attention to how much better he would be without Stiles, then competing with Allison wouldn’t even be an option.  

     “Yeah.  He’s great.” Stiles forced himself to say. The two boys climbed out of the jeep after they parked, and they both headed towards the school at a slow pace.  

     “But I swear you and I will have a bro night really soon!”  Scott patted the back of Stiles as they entered the building.  Maybe it was because of the unexpected contact, or maybe it was because Stiles had been thinking about Uncle Tom more than he wanted to, but stiles couldn’t stop himself from flinching slightly when Scott padded his back.  Luckily, the other teenager didn’t notice.  Fuck.  If he was getting this jumpy already, hiding his bruises from the pack was going to be a lot harder than it normally was.  He always had worked hard to behave the way he would if he wasn't covered in blue and black marks.  He wouldn’t whimper when someone playfully smacked his arm, or if someone accidentally bumped into his side.  This meant he would just have to work extra hard to appear like his usual self.  

     It was easier said than done, though.  The pack met two times a week, and Stiles was living with Uncle Tom for at least three weeks.  Usually Stiles would be forced to sit through one meeting if he was unlucky.  The visits would land on days between pack meetings.  But this time, Stiles would be forced to endure every meeting while residing at his uncle’s.  The coil of panic tightened.  

     “Yeah, man.  Bro night for sure soon.”  Stiles smiled as convincingly as he could muster, before the two boys separated for first period.  Scott gave one last apologetic look before heading down the hallway away from Stiles.  Stiles, on the other hand, faced his locker in order to gather his books for his math class.  His hands trembled as he tried to turn the lock according to his combination.  

     They were tingling from the memories of broken glass again.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got some ideas I really wanna do! ;]


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see that some people have "betas" for their fics....what does that mean? hahaha. Hope you enjoy!

     Stiles decided he should look into predicting the future for a career because clearly he had a gift.  Just as he imagined, the school day sucked.  It sucked so hard.  Harris took it upon himself to give him a detention for sneezing.  Stiles was still trying to figure out how he was able to be punished because of a sneeze.  Harris had officially surpassed his level of doucheness.  He was still reeling from his new found after school plans, when he found himself already in the lunch room.  He didn’t remember walking his route to the cafeteria, but he was suddenly holding a tray with whatever mystery meat was served that day.  Gazing over the tables, he located a waving scott near their usual spot.  Stiles shot him an acknowledging smile before he began to make his way over.  Weaving between the other tables, Stiles arrived at his destination.  Scott was sitting next to Allison, and gave a huge smile as Stiles sat on his other side.  The usual crew was at the table;  Scott between Stiles and Allison, with Lydia, Jackson, and Danny on the other side, sitting in that order.  Stiles glanced at the other teenagers noting their typical behavior.  Danny was engrossed in a book, absentmindedly twirling his plastic fork in his spaghetti.  Lydia was scolding Jackson for not following whatever order she had given, and the jock just had his usual arrogant look on his face.  Isaac, Boyd, and Erica were at the very end of the table, chatting quietly about God knows what.  Stiles had to admit, the three of them had certainly grew on him.  Strange to think people he once hated with the firey passion of a thousand burning suns were now his friends.  Erica was still brash and aggressive, but she could be sweet at times.  Isaac was still kind of quiet, and a little more attached to Scott than he liked, but the kid was funny sometimes and wasn’t threatening to kill him anymore.  Boyd was...well Boyd was still Boyd.  Just not as homicidal as he was before.  Silent, patient, observant.  He liked Boyd.  Stiles could hear Scott murmuring to Allison about being able to hang out on Thursday.  Stiles angrily stabbed at his food with his fork and tried to ignore the slightly bashful look Scott shot him.  

     Stiles knew he couldn’t be openly upset about the new plans being made since he already told Scott it would be fine.  He supposed that he could have told him no, but Scott has the best puppy dog eyes Stiles has ever seen.  Plus, a small part of him knew that his friend was just in love and couldn’t help being so..smitten.  Stiles couldn’t even be mad at Allison.  It isn’t like she meant for the kid to fall in love with her.  And as much as Stiles looked for things to dislike about the girl, she was great.  She was patient, smart, badass, and had dimples like nobodies business.  He couldn’t hate Allison.  He liked her.  She was good for Scott, but it didn’t mean he liked how neglected he had been feeling.  

     “Right, Stiles?”  Scott was looking at him, waiting for an answer.  Stiles just gazed back at the boy.  

     “Uh.  Right.”  He hoped that was the answer he would have given if he had been paying attention.  When Scott beamed back at him, Stiles took it his answer was correct.  He internally shrugged, and went back to eating.  

     Eventually the conversation shifted and Stiles was lucky enough to have the attention of his best friend again.  They were actively debating which superhero universe was the best.  Stiles was a hard core DC man (because Batman, dude), but Scott was adamant about Marvel.  

     “Dude! Look. I know where you’re coming from.  I do. “Stiles began. “But you have to look at the very cores of the universes.”

     “That’s what I’m saying!” Scott barked.  “Marvel is so developed! Every single hero has a huge backstory and a ton of storylines!”  Stiles rolled his eyes at such an amature remark.

     “That is exactly why DC is better.  it is the bare essence of comics and superheroes.  The entire universe is pure.  Everything is so certain and not all jumbled like Marvel.  It is bad guys being beaten by the good guys.  There are the people who need help, and those who save the day.  And it has Batman, Scott.  Batman.”  Stiles felt like he had already had this argument before, and sighed when Scott started to counter poorly but was interrupted.   “Scott, face it, you’re fighting a lost cause.  The sooner you give up and admit I’m right, the better off you’ll-” Stiles stopped mid sentence when one of his waving arms (for effect, thank you very much) struck his milk carton and tipped it over, spilling its contents across the table.  Chocolate milk splashed towards Lydia while Jackson threw as many napkins as he could in that instant to stop the damage from getting worse.  Scott was snickering, and even Allison had a hand over her mouth to stop from chuckling.  Danny simply put his book down and handed over any extra napkins he had.  The other three at the end of the table had glanced up, but only for a moment before delving back into their conversation.

     “Shit!  Sorry, Lydia.  Sometimes I just get carried away, haha, you know me.”  Stiles was rambling as he began soaking up the milk as well.  His eyes drifted to Jackson, who was fuming across the table.

     “What the hell, _dumbass_!” Stiles body froze at the familiar phrase.  He looked at Jackson, who was still trying to divert the brown liquid away from his girlfriend’s white blouse.  

     “I–uh–I said sorry.  I’ll just–I’ll just clean it up.”  Stiles mumbled as he kept soaking napkins.  Jesus, how much milk was in that damn carton?

     “Damn right, you will clean this up!”  Jackson snarled.

     Stiles could feel the color drain from his face as he froze in his cleaning.  The words echoed in his head.  This was too similar to Uncle Tom’s house, and Stiles was having trouble focusing on the present.  His body was numb except for the buzzing in his palms.  He couldn’t even feel the last of the milk through the soaked napkin.  All he could do was see his uncle staring angrily down at him, clutching his hands as he pulled Stiles closer.  The smell of whiskey surrounded his senses as he was flung down onto the glass.

     “Stiles?  Hey, man, you alright?”  Scott stopped giggling and was actually looking at Stiles with concern, but his phone rang.  “Uh oh.  It’s Derek.  His Alpha senses must be alerting him of the milk crisis.”  Scott tried pulling some of the tension out of the air, but only succeeding in pushing Stiles further into his fear.  His stomach began to twist and he could feel his spaghetti wanting to come back up.  

     Scott was just beginning to answer the call when Stiles stood up and left the table, almost running for the doors of the cafeteria.  He made it to the nearest bathroom by pure instinct and hurled his lunch into the first open stall he could find.  Lucky for him, the bathroom was empty, so the echos of his retching were for him alone to hear.  

     He was safe.  He was at school.  He wasn’t with Uncle Tom.  He still had the two days of freedom before he needed to worry about him.  Eventually his stomach stopped heaving, and he could catch his breath.  Stiles sat against the stall door, and tried to calm down a little more.  Jesus, he was tired.  He was running on almost no sleep, and the coil of anxiety just kept getting tighter and tighter.  He knew this visit was going to be bad.  Uncle Tom never failed to make the next visit worse than the previous.  So if the bruises he was still sporting were any indication of how the next few weeks were going to go, Stiles was petrified.  

     But for now, he had to stay calm.  Or as calm as he could manage.  He was surrounded by a bunch of werewolves that could hear his heartbeat and smell his emotions.  Now was not the time to have a panic attack.  Up until that point, he had been lucky.  Enough werewolf shenanigans had been going on that no one questioned if he showed up to a pack meeting a little scared and sore.  Everyone probably imagined the pain he was feeling was just from the most recent battle with whatever supernatural foe they were up against.  If he wasn’t able to hide things better, someone would find out.  And that could not happen.

     After a few minutes of continuous pep talking, Stiles got himself up off the floor, rinshed his mouth out, and shuffled back to the cafeteria.  When he arrived back at the table, things were back to normal.  The milk disaster was gone, and everyone was back to talking.  Stiles eased himself down onto his seat and stared at his lunch tray.  

     “Hey buddy,” Scott started with a hand on Stiles's back.  Stiles had to force himself not to flinch away from the movement.  “Your favorite Beacon Hills Alpha called when you left.  Hey, why _did_ you leave?  Anyway, looks like we gotta have a pack meeting tonight.”  Scott was smiling.  Why was he smiling?  He hated pack meetings. Derek makes him nervous.

     “You’re smiling.  Why are you smiling?  You hate pack meetings.”  Stiles echoed his thoughts.  

     “I got out of it.” Scott beamed, triumphantly. “I told him how last minute it was and how if I didn’t help my mom, I would miss more than a few meetings instead of just this one.”  Scott was almost bouncing in his seat with excitement.  Stiles was definitely jealous of his friend in that moment.  

     “Ah.” Was all Stiles could come up with.  Stiles, who was known for his quick remarks and nonstop chattering, responded with ‘ah’.  Not his best moment.

     "You feeling alright, man?” Scott’s eyes went back to his puppy default.  Oh, so now the kid decides to pay attention.  Great.

     “Yeah, for sure.  Just super tired is all.  Uh, what time is the meeting?  I got detention from Harris and won’t be outta here until four.”  Stiles grimaced when he imagined sitting for an hour and a half with Harris, listening to the man groan about how much he hated Stiles.  It got old.  Besides, Harris’ remarks were nothing he hadn’t heard before.  Not from him, Uncle Tom, or even himself.  

     “That’s totally fine.  He said to get to his loft at five, so you should be good.  Hope you have fun tonight!”  Scott was gloating about not having to show up, and Stiles rolled his eyes so hard, it should have made him pass out.  

     “Pack meeting with King Sourwolf without my best friend?  Oh yeah, sounds super awesome, man.”  Stiles allowed his sarcasm to distract himself from other thoughts threatening to take over, and settled in for the remainder of lunch.   

***

     Stiles wished the rest of the school day passed in a blur.  But that would be too easy.  No, the day was just as painful after lunch as it was before.  Each class seemed to drag more than the first, and Stiles was dying to get home when the final bell rang.  As he stood up, his backpack fell of his desk and his books toppled out.  With a groan, Stiles bent down to pick up his supplies when he saw his chemistry book.  Fuck.  He forgot about detention.  So much for going home after school.  He shoved his books back into his bag, and shuffled to Mr. Harris’ room.  He pushed the door open with a mumbling about the unethicalness the educational system was trifling with now a days.  Mr. Harris didn’t even look up from the stack of papers he was working on.  Stiles was surprised he even pretended to consider giving out anything but F’s on his assignments.  He wasn’t fooling anyone, especially not Stiles.

     “Have a seat Mr. Stilinski.”  Harris continued to mark papers.

     “The usual spot alright?”  Stiles quipped.  Without waiting for an answer, Stiles made his way to a lab table a decent distance away from Harris’ desk.  Just as he sat down, he felt is phone buzz in his pocket.  He pulled the smartphone out and unlocked the screen to see a message from Scott.

     “ _dnt 4get about the pck meeting 2nite! 2 bad i wnt b ther! ;]_ ”  Stiles growled internally at his so called best friend.  

     “ _You really need to think about improving your text lingo, man.  Honestly, it’s embarrassing.  Also, fuck you for leaving me along with the big bad wolf._ ”  Stiles barely shot off his response when Mr. Harris cleared his throat.

     “You know the rules, Mr. Stilinski.  No cell phones.”  Stiles looked up from his phone to see Harris glaring through his glasses.  He shoved the phone back in his front pocket and put his hand up in surrender.  Harris rolled his eyes, and went back to “grading” papers.  Stiles resigned to fantasizing about his own bed.  Even picturing his room made him want to fall asleep.  The pack meeting better not run late, because Stiles needed to rest as much as possible if he was going to be in his uncle’s house in a couple days.  What could the meeting even be about?  The city had been pretty quiet as of late.  Maybe Derek was just getting bored, and wanted to have a movie night?....yeah that wasn’t going to happen.  Stiles was pretty sure hell would freeze over before Derek _willingly_ wanted to hang out with the pack, let alone Stiles.

    Stiles glanced at the clock.  Only 50 more minutes to go.  Great.

***

     Stiles had honest to God tears in his eyes when he finally was released from detention.  Of course he would claim it was a bit of dust, or branch or something else manly that made him so weepy to get out of the place.  As soon as the classroom door was shut behind him. Stiles flipped off the now obstructed view of Harris.  He half skipped his way down the hall and out to the parking lot.  Most of the cars were gone aside from some teachers who were staying late.  He hoped in his jeep and turned the key in the ignition.  The engine turned over, and cut out.  Stiles stiffened in his seat.  He tried again, and the engined sputtered but then roared to life.

     “Yeah, baby!  Man, I _knew_ you wouldn’t die on me, Babe!”  Stiles lovingly patted the steering wheel before pulling out of his spot and out of the parking lot.  it was just after four, so he had almost an hour before he had to head to Derek’s loft for the pack meeting.  After raking through the options, he decided going home for about 30 minutes seemed less than ideal, so Stiles decided to stop and grab some food.  

     Stiles rolled the window’s down in his jeep and let the wind blow across his face.  he turned down the radio and enjoyed the sounds of the road.  He almost wanted to close his eyes to get a better feel of the moment, but somehow driving with his eyes shut seemed like a bad idea.  Nonetheless, the short drive to the burger joint was a nice moment of peace after a shit day.  He let the engine idle for a few extra seconds when he parked, letting himself soak in a few last moments of the peace.  Then he turned off his jeep and slowly made his way to the door of the building.  He was going to take his time with this part of his day.  Lord knows he won’t get any like this in the near future.  He places his order once inside (burger with curly fries...extra curly fries, actually) and messes around on his phone while he waits.  He remembers his conversation with Scott at the beginning of detention.  Smirking to himself, he shoots the boy another message.

     “ _Just so you’re aware, you’re texting antics almost got me in MORE trouble with Harris.  So thank you._ ”

     Stiles played a few rounds of angry bird while he continued to wait.  Just as he destroyed another tower, his phone buzzed in his hands.  He exited the game, and pulled up his conversation with Scott.

     “ _U no u love me!_ ” Stiles's food finally showed up on the counter and he gratefully grabbed the bag of fried goodness.  He found a table near the back and unloaded the contents in front of him.  He was going to text Scott back, but the smells coming off the food were too good to pass up.  After a few bits of his burger and a generous supply of curly fries shoved in his mouth, he sent a reply.

     “ _Seriously, you sound like a child.  You are a badass werewolf and you can’t even type correctly.  Get it together._ ”  He grinned at his message, and finished the rest of his meal before he got another text.  This one only solidified his comments about Scott needing to improve his conversation skills ver technology.  A frowny face.  Well said, Scott.  Well said.

     When he got up from the booth, he glanced at the time.  He had about 20 minutes until the meeting.  Even if he drove slowly, he would be there in plenty of time.  Looks like he was just going to have to be early.  Slipping his phone in his pocket, Stiles walked back out to his jeep and listened happily as the engine once again worked after a few tries.  He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go before the thing crapped out for good.  He was pushing his luck.  Well, there was nothing he could do about the engine at that time, so he drove off to the loft.  The wind and drive were just as good as his trip to the burger joint.  Maybe he would go on more drives if they all were like this.  

     Sure enough, Stiles had about 10 minutes before he was supposed to be there.  He didn’t even try to find a reason to stay in his jeep since the werewolves would probably already know he arrived.  His jeep wasn’t exactly quiet.  He made his way up to the top floor and didn’t bother knocking.  Same rules applied here as did with his jeep.  The large metal door groaned as he pulled it open.  Stepping into the sparsely decorated room, Stiles glanced around for any of its’ inhabitants.  Peter was probably lurking around somewhere, and Isaac was no where to be seen. Stiles’ eyes, did however, fall upon a form on the couch.  Derek was reclined in one of the corners, arm slung on the back of the couch.  He had a book in his hands, and was scanning the page.  He was wearing his usual black jeans that were so tight Stiles thought they could have been painted on his body, boots, and a grey henley.  Damn, if the guy didn’t look like a model deciding to read a few chapters before he went back on the runway. Stiles wasn’t about to deny something so obvious as Derek’s attractiveness.  He had come to grips with his bisexuality long ago.  It was just that until recently, his affections had been totally set on Lydia.  Now that he realized she and him were just not going to happen, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders as well as that he could now appreciate others around him.  And it was easy to appreciate Derek.  He may be one hell of a grumpy guy, but that grumpy guy had one hell of an ass.  When Stiles continued into the room, Derek’s eyes lifted from his novel.

     “You know, it’s polite to knock.”  He mused. Stiles rolled his eyes.

     “Yeah, because you definitely couldn’t hear my jeep or me walking up the steps.”  Derek’s eyes drifted back to his book.

     “True.  You should get your engine looked at.  From the sound of it, I’m surprised it hasn’t died on you.”  Stiles huffed a laugh at that.  

     “I will cross that bridge when I come to it.”  The two of them fell into a silence as Stiles plopped on the other side of the couch.  Lately, the two of them had been getting along remarkably.  Well, if you call no longer getting Stiles’ head slammed into steering wheels or body shoved into walls, remarkable.  As long as Stiles kept his sarcastic remarks to a minimum, Derek wouldn’t resort to violence.  In reality, Stiles actually found the werewolf’s presence calming.  The dude practically oozed “protective” if not a little “terrifying”.  Either way, Stiles wasn’t going to ruin the decency the two were having between the,.  So instead of chatting, he pulled out his phone to continue more games of angry birds.    

     The next ten minutes passed by quickly and silently.  Derek would turn the pages every couple of minutes, and Stiles would only celebrate minimally when he beat a particularly difficult level.  He did receive a few scowls from Sourwolf, though.  Nothing life threatening, though.  He was about to start another round when a knocking at the door stirred him from his concentration. Without waiting for Derek to answer, Erica and Boyd walked in with Allison right behind them. Not thirty seconds later, Jackson came strolling in with his hand firmly clasping Lydias.  The two looked stiff, almost irritated to be there.  But at least they showed up.  Jackson was still new to the whole werewolf thing, and Lydia did not like not being aware of what the meeting was about.   As if on cue, Isaac came out from a doorway like he had been waiting for the others to show up.   Maybe he had been.  Either way, it was a bit creepy of the kid. Since Scott basically had a get out of jail free card on this meeting, everyone was present.  Peter was never expected to show up and he never failed to live up to such an expectation.  When everyone else sat in the limited furniture around the room, their alpha stood.  Derek set his book down on the cushion of the couch and walked around to the back as to see the group better.  It was also a subtle show of dominance; to be the only standing member and in front of everyone as well.  Stiles didn’t miss the slight show of power.

    “I’m not going to draw this out any more than I need to.  I am sure you all don’t need reminding of the rogue omega we dealt with a few weeks ago.”  Derek did however glance around at everyone.  Stiles couldn’t help but connect how Scott’s absence that night was in part because of the werewolf.  The battle they went through at the clinic almost tore the building down.  Derek Continued. “That being said, I don’t want us to get sloppy.  Lazy.  Vulnerable.  So, I am now insisting that everyone must pair up with another in the pack.  Each will be responsible of knowing where the other is and check in with them.”  Stiles opened his mouth to remark how much like babysitting it was sounding, but Derek didn’t let him even begin. “We were lucky that it was only one this time.  Next time we won’t be so fortunate.  If we are more aware of our pack’s position, it will leave less room for chaos once danger arrives.  And Stiles, before you say anything, keep in mind I considered having everyone stay with a pack member at all times.  So think of this as a compromise.”  The alpha threw Stiles an already annoyed look.  Stiles just huffed and waited.  “Allison, you’re with Scott.  Erica, Boyd, and Isaac will be a threesome and Stiles don’t laugh at me saying threesome.  Peter will be able to take care of himself.  Jackson is with Lydia, and I am with Stiles.”

     “Wait, why are you with me?” Stiles squeaked.  He was already nervous around the older man, and now he was going to have to call in every five minutes to make sure Derek knew he was still where he should be.   Stiles’ heart rate picked up when he realized that he would have to let Derek know about being at his Uncle’s house.  God forbid Derek might actually show up.

     “You are the most vulnerable.  Allison and Lydia may be humans as well, but Allison is a trained hunter and Lydia at least has her banshee abilities.”  Derek had his gaze fixed on Stiles, who was now sitting criss crossed on the couch.

     “Derek, I will be fine.  You don’t need to do this.” Stiles tried.  He really couldn’t let Derek get anywhere near finding out about Uncle Tom.

     “I will do whatever it takes to keep my pack safe.”  Derek sounded more annoyed now.  There was almost a growl in his voice.

     “But–”

     “ _Stiles._ ” Derek’s eyes flashed red; a clear warning and showmanship of power.  Stiles shut his mouth and listened to his alpha.  

     “Ugh, fine.  But I am not calling you or answering the phone if I am in the shower or asleep, so you will have to just deal with that.” Stiles tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal to him, but he was freaking out.  This was the absolute worst time this could happen.  Who knows what shape he would be in for the next few weeks, and now he was going to have an alpha down his neck about his well being.  Maybe his uncle was right; if Stiles could just not fuck everything up to begin with, he would never be in this situation.  His uncle’s words echoed in his head about how all of this was his fault.  He tried to focus on the rest of the meeting, but all he could think about was how he hoped Uncle Tom wouldn’t do enough damage to alert Derek. The day just kept getting better and better.  

****  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are still liking this! The few comments I get are really nice and make me feel a lot better about posting, so thank you!

     The rest of the meeting was nothing noteworthy.  Derek growled a few times, Stiles made a few sarcastic remarks, Jackson looked pissed.  Basically, it was a normal meeting.  The only thing missing was Scott.  As the discussion went on, however, Stiles found himself almost dozing off.  Maybe it was the lack of sleep he had been getting, maybe it was just the fact that Sourwolf had a soothing voice even if it was making threats.  Stiles routinely found himself jerking awake after a bout of sleep.  He kept trying to force himself into alertness but soon found himself wrenching his eyes back open after he somehow closed them.  It was torture to be so ready for sleep after it had evaded him for so long, only to have to keep himself awake.  This was the definition of irony.  If Stiles wasn’t so tired, he would have laughed. Mercifully, Derek finally called a close to the meeting and Stiles let out a huge sigh.  Everyone got up off their seats and either chatted for a minute or two, or just left the loft immediately.  Stiles was on board for the latter of the two choices.  He pulled himself off the couch (if a bit wobbly from still being half asleep) and shuffled towards the door.  He didn’t make it far before a hand was on his shoulder, stopping him from walking further.  Damn.  So close.

     “Can I help you?” Stiles turned his head to see his alpha staring (okay, scowling) at him.  

     “You kept falling asleep.”  The sentence was probably an observation but it came out like an accusation, which it probably was.  Stiles glanced at the hand still on his shoulder.

     “What can I say?  You’re voice is peaceful, babe.”  He added a wink for effect, and relished in the way Derek’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.  Stiles turned his head back towards the exit and tried walking in the direction.  He got a few inches before Derek’s hand pulled him back, still firmly clasped to his shoulder.  

     “You’re not awake enough to drive.”  Stiles rolled his eyes and made a huff.

     “Dude, I will be fine, its like 15 minutes tops.”  Stiles tried but failed to make it through the whole sentence without yawning.  The end bit wasn’t understandable by the time the yawn took over.  Stiles knew, just _knew_ Derek was smirking.

     “Stiles.  Shut up and let me take you home.”  Derek didn’t wait for an answer as he more or less dragged the other boy through the doorway and down the stairs to the parking lot.  Stiles could see the dark camaro a few spaces away from Stiles’ jeep.  Derek opened up the passenger side and positioned an already half asleep Stiles inside.  After buckling him up, Derek walked around to the drivers end and let himself in.  Before Stiles knew it, the engine was roaring to life and Derek was pulling out onto the main road.  Stiles let out a small chuckle at how different Derek’s car sounded compared to his jeep. Derek looked over at the boy.

     “Why are you laughing?”  He frowned.  Surprise, surprise.

     “Your baby sounds nicer than my baby.” Stiles mumbled.  He could have elaborated on that he was talking about their respective vehicles, but he was too tired to try.

     “...Alright?”  Stiles swore he saw the corner of Derek’s mouth twitch upward, but it could have been the fact that he was about to pass out.  He didn’t even care that it was only a little past 7:00.  He was tired and he could sleep.  Nothing would stop him.  Mumbling about how Stiles was going to have to make Derek smile more, he drifted off into sleep at last.

***

      _Stiles curled in on himself when he heard his uncle stomping up the stairs to check on the cleaning job he just did.  He prayed he didn’t miss any glass on the floor.  There was so many tiny pieces left from the smashing, that Stiles had a hard time finding them all.  What was worse was that his hands kept bleeding on the tiled floor, just making more of a mess.  Every time he would sweep his hand over an area to clean up the water, smears of red would be left.  Eventually, Stiles wrapped toilet paper gingerly across his palms to act as makeshift bandages.  It stung, but it was easier to clean up the mess._

_His bedroom door swung open with a bang against the wall, and his uncle was walking towards him, drink in one hand, and fist made with the other._

_“Get over here you little shit!” His uncle snarled._

_“Uncle Tom, I–I cleaned it up! I promise–I promise I cleaned it up! My mom says I am a good cleaner–I swear!”  Stiles crawled his way up to the headboard of the bed, trying to get more of a distance between himself and the angry man._

_“Shut up!  Now get_ over here _!”  His uncle grabbed for the boy, and Stiles scrambled away from the older man, jumping off the other side of the bed, making the mattress a temporary barrier.  “I said get over here!!”  His uncle roared, throwing his drink at Stiles.  It smashed on the wall beside Stiles’ head.  He yelped in surprise, and ducked down onto the floor, shielding himself from the falling glass.  When he was about to glance back up, he felt two strong hands on his wrists, yanking Stiles roughly to his feet._

_“Ow! Uncle Tom, stop!  That hurts my hands!”  Stiles pleaded._

_“Why don’t you ever shut_ up _?!”  Tom yelled.  He pulled stiles out of the bedroom and through the hall.  Stiles tried getting his hands free from him, but his uncle just held tighter and pulled harder.  They ended up at his Uncle’s room, and Stiles was thrown into the bedroom and landed with a shout onto the floor.  His uncle slammed the door and staggered towards Stiles with a fist raised above his head._

__

***

     “Stiles! Stiles, wake up!”  Derek shook Stiles awake, and the boy flailed his arms as he came out of the nightmare. He threw his head back and forth, taking in his surroundings.  He was in Derek’s car, parked in his driveway.  He wasn’t at his Uncle’s house.  He was with Derek.  Safe.  

     “Wha–what happened?”  Stiles was aware of his dream, but he was still confused about what was happening in the real world around him.

     “You’re home.  I was going to carry you in, but you were having a nightmare.  I woke you up.”  Derek was frowning as usual, but it had a different light to it.  Almost like concern was underlying the expression.  Stiles blinked up at him, trying to slow his heartbeat.

     “You were going to carry me inside? How…..heroic.”  Stiles remarked with a yawn.  Derek rolled his eyes and the frown deepened.  

     “You want to tell me what the dream was about?”  Stiles shook his head.

     “Nah, nothing to worry your little wolfy head about.  Just a dream.”  Stiles willed his heart to not give away his lie.  He hoped it was still quick from the dream so Derek wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between him telling the truth and not.  Derek’s eyes narrowed but he seemed to accept the statement.

     “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at 7:30.”  Stiles was going to argue about how absurd that was, but he remembered how he got home.  His jeep was still parked at Derek’s loft.  He internally groaned and nodded.  Derek looked surprised he didn’t have to argue with the boy or flash his eyes in any kind of warning.  

     “Alright.  Thanks uh–thanks for driving me home and stuff.”  He hoped the “and stuff” would cover waking him up from a nightmare.  It was nice to escape the dream even if he was probably going to go right back to it once in his own bed.  Derek didn’t respond verbally, but he did give a slight nod.  Stiles started getting out of the car, in no way gracefully, when the werewolf spoke up.

     “Try and get some sleep, Stiles.”  Stiles just looked at the other man’s face and tried to offer a small smile.  He wasn’t sure if it was convincing or not.  He finished getting out of the car, and closed the door.  It was still light enough out to see where he was walking, and Stiles made it to the front door without tripping over anything.  He let himself in, and the camaro didn’t leave the driveway until the front door was closing behind him.  

     His father’s cruiser wasn’t in the driveway when Derek dropped him off, so Stiles assumed his dad hadn’t eaten yet.  Making his way into the kitchen, Stiles took a plate of leftover lasagna out of the fridge.  It was whole grain noodle, but it did have some sausage in it, so his dad better not complain.  The microwave was beeping when Stiles heard the front door open.  

     “Stiles?”  His father called from the entry way.

     “In the kitchen!”  Stiles answered back.  A few moments passed before he saw his dad enter the room.  His eyes were tired from work, but he had a fond smile planted on his face.  

     “That for me?”  His dad questioned as Stiles lifted the plate of pasta out of the microwave.  Stiles set it onto the kitchen counter.

     “It’s much better than you going to Burger King and trying to hide the wrappers in the bottom of the trash like I know you do.”  Stiles remarked.  His dad put on an innocent face, and Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Anyway, I am pretty tired, so I’m going to head to bed after I do some homework.”

     “Sounds like a good idea, son. I’ll see you in the morning?”  The sheriff was hesitantly eating the food in front of him.

     “Sure will.  Night, Dad.”  Stiles shuffled towards the stairs after his dad said goodnight.

     Maybe he should have done some homework in the spare time he had before the pack meeting, but he was fairly certain that any school involved activity that soon after detention (let alone that soon after such a hellish school day in general) would have resulted in his head exploding.  He would just have to suffer through a few assignments that night before he could finally, finally, sleep.  Slowly making his way up the stairs, his phone buzzed in his pocket.  He made it to the top of the steps before he pulled it out and glanced at the screen.  It was from the number he titled as “Sourwolf”

     “ _You had better be in bed, and not still awake._ ” Derek must be taking the whole “checking in” thing far more literally than Stiles had predicted.  He was frowning slightly as he typed a response.

     “ _Actually, Sourwolf, I have some homework I need to do.  Not all of us are privileged with lack of high school.”_ Stiles made it to his room and went to where he normally threw his backpack after he got home from school.  As he reached the chair near his computer, where his bag always was, he stopped.  Sighing, he remembered where his bag was just as his phone alerted him of another message.

     “ _You do know your bag is in your jeep, right?  And that your jeep is at the loft?_ ” Stiles could feel Derek’s smug tone even over text messages.  Grumbling to himself about stupid werewolves with their stupid camaros, he sent a text back.

     “ _Yeah, yeah, yeah, I just figured that out for myself.  Looks like you will get your wish of me getting to bed early._ ”  His phone blipped not even twenty seconds later.

     “ _Good.  You were dead on your feet today.  I will bring your bag with me when I pick you up tomorrow morning._ ”  Stiles was once again reminded of Derek’s helpfulness.  He wasn’t even thinking such a thing sarcastically.  Derek may be grumpy, off putting, and aggressive, but the dude was nothing if not selfless.  He didn’t have to help Scott when he was bitten.  He didn’t have to keep Stiles and the others out of harms way.  He had no reason to put himself on Stiles duty with the whole babysitting thing.  He certainly didn’t have to drive Stiles home and pick him up for school tomorrow.  Now the werewolf was bringing Stiles his homework as well.  Derek may be…..Derek.  But he is a lot nicer than he appears to be.

     “ _Thanks, man.  I appreciate it.  See you tomorrow?_ ”  Stiles slipped out of his clothes, and breathed a sigh of relief as his jeans came off.  Honestly, pants were made for the sole purpose of imprisoning a person’s legs.  If it was up to Stiles, he would walk around the house all day with just his boxers and a shirt on.  But unfortunately, he had werewolves in his life and he rarely got to spend time in the house anymore.  He was about to climb into bed when felt a breeze brush against his upper body.  He turned his head towards the open window, watching the wind gently push the curtains forward.  Feeling the coolness against his bare skin again, he glanced down at his body.  

     The bruises were still there.  They were healing but he definitely didn’t think he could risk letting anyone see.  He gently ran his hand over the light purple and green splotches covering his sides and chest.  He could feel a slight throb just under the skin of some of the less healed areas.  His pulse: bounding through the abused skin, reminding him of his mistakes which caused his uncle to beat him.  He sighed as he reached for his shirt off the floor, noting how his body still protested slightly at the bending. He slid the fabric over his head and tried not to focus on how his sensitive skin felt the cloth epically against the sores.  Determined to uphold at least some of his comfort, Stiles didn’t give his jeans a second glance where they laid crumpled on the floor.  

     Sprawled out on his bed, Stiles allowed himself to soak in the comfort of not even having the option of doing his homework.  Technically it wasn’t procrastination if he didn’t have anything with him.  The logic was fool proof, and he felt no regrets and snuggling closer into his pillow.  His phone lit up next to his face.  Sourwolf again.

     “ _Goodnight, Stiles_.”  Stiles was surprised because of a few reasons.  One, that Derek said goodnight.  Two, because he didn’t just tell Stiles to shut up.  And three, because he couldn’t find a good enough reason not to respond with a goodnight message of his own...even if it was a little sassy.

     “Goodnight, Sourwolf.”  Stiles plugged his phone into its’ charger and let his head fall down onto the pillow for good.  His eyes blinked slowly and he noticed how dark it had gotten in the past half hour.  He didn’t fight his drooping eyelids. Soon he was asleep.

     He did not dream of his uncle, or tingling palms, or bruises.

     He didn’t dream of anything like that.

     Instead, he dreamt he was driving outside again.  The windows were down like before with with radio off.  He felt the wind combing through his hair, and a smile grew on his face.  No other cars were on the road, and his vehicle twisted through the hills and the trees were green blurs around him.  He let himself ease further into the drivers seat, enjoying the moment even further.  Though the dream felt just as good as the actual drives did, there were two differences between them.  The first being that he wasn’t driving his jeep.  Instead, he was driving a sleek black camaro.  And the second difference was that he wasn’t alone. Stiles’ eyes drifted over to the passenger seat and he felt his smile grow larger when he saw the man in the familiar leather jacket beside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of Sterek this chapter. I am really excited for the next post, though. Tons more Sterek moments. Hell. Yes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys keep liking this!

     His phone was buzzing.  Cracking one eye open, he saw the device on the end table next to his bed slightly moving with the vibrations.  He assumed it was just a text message, but when the phone continued to buzz, he groaned.  Throwing an arm out of the bed half hazardly, he grasped the phone and slid his thumb over the screen in order to answer the call.

     “Yeah?”  His voice was thick with sleep, and the boy hoped whoever was calling him felt bad for waking him up.  He was having such a nice (if not strange) dream.

     “ _Stiles.  I have been waiting for ten minutes._ ”  It was Derek.  Wait.   _Oh shit_. He was late.  

     “Oh shit.  Oh shit oh shit oh shit.   _I will be right down. Oh shit_.” Stiles didn’t wait for a response before he hung up.  In retrospect, hanging up on an alpha werewolf who was already ticked about him being late, probably wasn’t the best idea.  Oh well, Stiles would have to deal with the big bad wolf later.  Now he had to get ready like his life depended on it...which it could depending on how angry Derek was.  He flung himself out of bed and threw himself at his dresser, cursing slightly as he knocked his knee against the wood.  The curse was more out of annoyance than actual pain.  The bump wouldn’t even leave a red mark.  His dad must have already left for work.  Otherwise, he would have woken Stiles up by now.  

     He prayed whatever shirt he found was actually clean, and he swapped it for the one he was already wearing from the previous night.  He grabbed a clean (well they were worn earlier that week but Stiles was fairly certain that there were slim to no stains on them) jeans off the floor and stumbled to the bathroom while buttoning his pants.  Okay.  He can do this.  Multitasking was his strong suit.  

     It was actually pretty remarkable. Stiles somehow managed to put deodorant on while brushing his teeth on top of sticking his head under the faucet to get rid of his bed head.  Maybe they should make getting ready quickly an olympic sport.  Stiles would win gold, easy.  He shut the water off and shook his head dry with a towel as he put away the deodorant and toothpaste.  He didn’t dare give himself a second glance in the mirror out of the possibility of him looking worse than he expected.  He almost launched himself down the stairs when he heard a honk from outside.  Damn, Derek must be getting impatient.  Without wondering about breakfast, Stiles grabbed his shoes near the front door and exited the house.  He did, however, pause enough to make sure he locked the door.  Being a sheriff’s son came before punctualness.  He jogged to the camaro idling in his driveway and got in the passenger side door.  Stiles was panting.

     “Hey–Big–Bad–thanks for–picking–me up.”  Stiles wasn’t even trying to hide his lack of air.  Man, he was like Scott before the whole “werewolves don’t have asthma” thing happened. Derek was frowning.

     “You’re late.”  He said it as though Stiles wasn’t already aware.

     “I know. I fell–asleep–last night and–was out like– a light. I’m–sorry.”  Damn, it was hard to breathe.  Derek rolled his eyes and pulled out of the drive.  They drove surprisingly slow down the streets.  Stiles wasn’t used to Derek driving at a leisurely pace.  He had really only been in the car for emergencies, making the alpha floor it in residential areas.  Last night Stiles couldn't even remember the drive since he was passed out for most of it.  Maybe Derek had driven as relaxed then as he was at the moment.  Eventually he caught his breath again and Stiles went to roll down the window, but the button wasn’t working.  “Uh, I think your car is broken, man.”

      _“What?”_  Derek’s answer was immediate and full of concern.   The man’s head was staring intently at him. Stiles would have laughed at the fact that he had never seen the other man so readily worried, but it was still too early to harass the dude.  

     “The window won’t roll down.”  Stiles jerked his head towards the door, where his fingers were flipping the button back and forth. “See?  Not working.” Derek’s eyes lost the concern and he looked back at the road.  

     “It isn’t broken.  I locked it.”  Derek sighed.

     “You. You _locked_ the window from me?” Stiles almost shrieked. “I am not a child, Derek, I just wanna roll the window down.”  

     “With your luck, you would fall out.” Derek mused as he turned the blinker on to indicate him making a left.  

     “Excuse me, but if either of us are going to stick our head out the window, my bet is on the one of us which is part dog.”  Derek’s mouth dropped in what Stiles assumed was a mixture between shock and hopefully awe.  Stiles may have a track record for making jokes, but he very rarely made dog ones.  Wolves, yes.  Dogs, no.  And while the joke was brilliant, Stiles hoped he hadn’t crossed the line.  He felt his own eyes widen as he realized how Derek could react.  He prayed the other man had a good sense of humor for once in his life.  He shifted his eyes from the man and looked out the windshield.  He was about to apologize for referring to Derek as a dog, when the silence was broken by Derek himself.

     “...Touche.”  Stiles whipped his head towards Derek and now it was his turn for the mouth to drop open.  He must be still asleep because Derek Hale did not just take the joke.  And Derek Hale was certainly not smirking in that moment.  

     “Oh. My. God.  Are you _smirking_?" Stiles was having trouble coping with all that had just happened. Derek’s smirk left his face, but it looked like it caused him an effort to do so. Stiles was basking in the light of the moment.

     “Well, not so much now that you keep talking.” Derek quipped.  If Stiles was happy before, he was through the roof ecstatic now.  

      “Derek, are you feeling alright? Because you were just _funny_.  I think I’m rubbing off on you!”  Stiles was bouncing in his seat with excitement.  “Derek, you were funny!  I cannot believe this.  No one is going to believe me!”  Stiles was still clicking the button, and now he was pushing it back and forth so fast it was a possibility of actually breaking off.

     “You won’t have the chance to tell them if you keep attacking my car.”  Derek was no longer humoring Stiles, and the younger man pouted in the sudden absence of “funny-Derek”.

     “Fine fine fine, have it your way.  But just know that I know you’re funny.  I will never look at you the same again.” Stiles forced his hand off the button for the window and placed it in his lap with his other.  He was still buzzing from the discovery.  The two traveled in silence for the remainder of the drive.  When they arrived to the school, Stiles suddenly remembered he was still missing a key component of a school day, “Hey, did you remember to bring–”

     “In the back seat.” Derek cut off.  Sure enough, when Stiles turned his head behind him, his bag was laying in a seat.  He felt some of the anxiety he previously had melt from his body.  

     “Thanks, man.  You’re a life saver.  Now I just have to figure out when I am going to get the homework done that I didn’t do last night.”  Derek pulled up to the front of the school and parked the car.  Other kids had either stopped completely to see who was driving the nice car or had at least slowed their pace.

     “Somehow I think you’ll manage.”  Stiles grabbed his bag from the back and took a breath before heading out of the car.  The morning turned out to be better than he expected, but school was still school.  Maybe he would be lucky and the day would pass by without much excitement.  “I will pick you up after school so you can grab your jeep.”  Stiles looked back at Derek while his hand was still on the door, ready to open it.

     “Oh.  Well, that..that would be cool of you.  Thanks.”  Stiles went to get out of the car again.

     “Text me when you’re headed to lunch.”  Stiles was confused why Derek would want to know that, but then he remembered the pack meeting.  Right.  Derek was “checking in” on Stiles.  Stiles still failed to see how it was actually just Derek being a more or less bodyguard for the boy.  Whatever, there was no use in arguing about it since he had already agreed to it the other night.  So Stiles gave Derek a small nod and finally left the vehicle.  He tried to ignore the surprised looks from his classmates around him when they saw just who was being driven to school in such a nice car.  Huffing in irritation at the other teenagers, he slung his backpack onto his shoulder and headed towards the front doors.  

     It wasn’t until Stiles was at his locker and he saw Scott walking towards him, that he realized he didn’t give the young man a ride.  Stiles hoped Scott didn’t have to walk to school.  Sure they guy was a werewolf, but it was a long hike from his house, even for the supernatural teen.  Stiles started coming up with a good way to apologize in the few moments it took Scott to reach his locker.  Stiles opened his mouth to begin his first “I’m sorry” when the other kid spoke up.  

     “So about this morning,” Scott began.  Stiles winced internally as he waited for the verbal reprimand from his best friend.  How could Stiles have forgotten?  It was the same every single morning.  Stiles would get up, shower, get ready, have breakfast,  get a call from Scott, pick him up for school.  It was literally the schedule they had every day.  How could he have forgotten?  He was an awful friend.  Once again, he screwed something up.  He was going to start verbalizing his apology when Scott continued. “Sorry I didn’t call you.  I..I kinda got a ride from someone.”  Stiles guilt stopped instantly and his guard was up.  Who had given Scott a ride?  

     More than that, Stiles felt a little frustrated.  He had been thinking he was a bad friend for not giving Scott a ride, when in reality, Scott had decided to change their morning ritual.  Sure, there were days where one couldn’t participate in the usual before school schedule, but this was different.  And yeah, okay, Stiles technically deviated from the normal morning as well, but he was past feeling guilty about it now that Scott had as well.  Instead, he was irritated Scott decided to get a ride from someone other than Stiles. At least Stiles didn’t have the _option_ to stick with their usual morning.

     “Oh?”  Stiles asked innocently.  Whoever it was, they were a douchebag.

     “Yeah,” Scott gave a small smile, and his cheeks turned pink.  Ah, Stiles knew that look.  That look could only be caused by one person on Earth. “Allison.” Scott went on.  “She swung by and we got coffee this morning so she could fill me in on what I missed at the pack meeting.”  Stiles cocked an eyebrow.

     “Ah.  Is that _all_ you two did?”  If Scott’s answering blush was any indication, Stiles knew he had a response to his question.  

     “I mean, I’m not complaining about this whole “everyone has a buddy” thing going on with the pack.  Derek might actually be onto something.”  Scott sounded innocent, but Stiles knew he was just excited about the fact that he could spend more time with Allison all in the name of “my alpha says so”.  

      Well Scott was lucky.  He had gotten paired up with someone he could suck face with.  Stiles, on the other hand, had not been so lucky.  He doubted Derek would be up for such escapades.  I mean, Stiles wouldn’t need much coaxing, himself (Derek was hot, Stiles had known this for a while now.  And he seemed a lot more approachable this morning than he normally did.) but Derek would probably die before he thought of Stiles in any form other than “annoying”.  

     But now Stiles was thinking.  Was Derek really all that bad?  I mean he just went over in his head about all the reasons why Derek was a decent guy, and this morning he had joked around with the alpha. Derek had long since been anything Stiles’ feared.  Now he was as comfortable around him as he was around Scott.  That was a crazy statement within itself.  But it was true.  Stiles had no reservations about being around the other werewolf.  In fact, after so many times Derek had saved his ass, Stiles felt safe around him.   Even in the beginning, Stiles wasn’t afraid to get up close and personal with the werewolf when he was being overdramatic.  Just because Stiles was human doesn’t mean he would take shit from someone he barely knew at the time.  And he _did_ know him _now_.  He knew a lot about Derek, if he thought about it.  He knew Derek enjoyed nice cars, dark clothes, read a lot of books, and he even knew Derek liked that chinese place a few blocks from his house.  Whenever they ordered take out after a particularly long pack meeting, he would always jump at the opportunity to snag a few eggrolls from the joint.  Stiles knew he had a dry sense of humor when he chose to show it and the more Stiles thought about it, the more he enjoyed spending time with Derek.  Derek, of course, probably tolerated Stiles’ presence at best.  The boy was aware of how intense he could be, and such a personality wasn’t for everyone.  Stiles felt like Derek certainly was one of the people who found Stiles’ overactive self less than desirable, but the werewolf was never cruel about it.  Stiles was thankful for that; for Derek putting up with him.

     Sure, he wished Derek didn’t have to “put up with him”, but it was just the way things were.  Stiles was a part of the pack, and Derek was the alpha; it wasn’t like they couldn’t be around each other.  And although he felt bad for probably annoying the man, Stiles wouldn’t change who he was.  All he could do was try to be a little…...less Stiles at times.  Maybe he could hold back some of the jokes or try not to flail around as often.  Okay, yeah that probably wasn’t going to happen.

     It was just that Derek had been through a lot, and he didn’t really need Stiles fucking up his life even more.  Derek never asked to have to save Stiles more than anyone else in the pack, or have to make sure the kid didn’t hurt himself from just walking.  Stiles was well aware of the burden he was on Derek, and he felt bad about it.  Derek had lost his entire family.  If the loss of Stiles’ mother was anything to go by, Stiles was surprised to see Derek even walking around and not curled up in a ball crying like Stiles  would be.  His sister was murdered by his uncle, whom he had to kill.  The murderer who burned down his house and family (who had also  pretended to care about him, manipulating his emotions) came back to town to finish the job.  Now his vengeful uncle was back, he had no guidance on how to be an alpha, and he was dealing with a bunch of teenagers who seemed to never stay out of trouble.  

     If Derek was able to handle all of that, he was the strongest person Stiles had ever met.  He found himself with a new respect for Derek now that he thought about all that.

     A movement in front of his face drew him back to the present.  Scott was waving his hand in front of Stiles’ eyes, trying to get his attention.

     “Dude. Stiles.  You in there?” Wow, Stiles must have really zoned out.  Hopefully he hadn’t missed anything important.

     “Sorry, what were you saying?”  He resisted the urge to shake his head in order to clear it better.  

     “I was just telling you about how it must suck to have Derek breathing down your neck now that he wants everyone to pair up.”  Scott offered a sympathetic smile to him. Stiles just blinked towards the other kid.

     “Yeah...its’...actually its’ not that bad”  And Stiles realized that it was true, it really wasn’t bad.  Maybe it would actually be nice getting to know Sourwolf better.  Maybe Stiles could even get the alpha to not think of him as a burden.  If Stiles tried hard enough, he might be able to get Derek to like him and not want to slam his head into the nearest object.  Sure he hadn’t done that in a while, but Stiles had a feeling the urge was still there.

      The two stood there for a few more minutes, Scott gushing about Allison (what else is knew) while Stiles pretended to be incredibly interested (because that is what friends do).  The bell rang, signaling for the two of them to head to class.  They said their goodbyes and Stiles walked to first period thinking about how he get Derek to see how much Stiles actually appreciated him.  

     He got an idea just before he reached his classroom.

***

     The school day barely registered with Stiles.  He spent the majority of it figuring out the best way to change Derek’s opinion of him.  He tried his best to figure out what kind of stuff Derek did for fun so that Stiles could at least help the whole “pairing up” thing be more tolerable for the werewolf.  If they were going to spend time together or be in constant contact, Stiles was going to give Derek a reason to associate the boy with at least one good thing.  The first step was getting Derek to drive him a couple places so he could get the supplies they needed.  He went over the details in his head all morning, waiting for lunch.  Finally he was headed to the cafeteria with is phone in hand.  He shot Derek the text he had already thought through repeatedly.

    _“Good afternoon, my alpha.  I’m on my way to lunch, and was wondering if you would be kind enough to run a few very short errands with me before we head to my jeep?”_ Stiles hit send and waited impatiently for the response.  He had come up with multiple excuses for the errands in the very likely case Derek didn’t want to drive him to the places he needed to go. He had gotten his tray of food and was walking towards the table when his phone vibrated in his pocket.  He sped up his pace.  He sat his food down half hazardly on the table and whipped his phone out from his jeans to gaze at the screen.

      _“Alright.”_  That was it.  No argument, no questions.  Holy shit.  Stiles didn’t even have to send a single “please” to the man.  This was going better than he expected. He quickly sent a thank you to Derek and then pretended to listen to the conversations at the table.  He was actually focusing on operation “get Derek to not hate Stiles”.  The lunch hour went by quickly and so did the rest of the school day.  Stiles thanked the school gods for taking pity on him for once in his life.  Before he knew it, the final bell rang out and he was headed towards his locker, where he saw a waiting Scott.  

     “Hey, man.” Stiles opened with when he got to the other teen.  Scott was already looking bashful so Stiles knew this was going to be about Allison.  “Scott,” Stiles continued. “I already told you it was okay for you to chill with Allison tonight.  No need to look so guilty.”  Actually, Stiles thought there was plenty of reason to be guilty, but he was trying to be a good friend.

     “Yeah, its’ just that,”  Scott was staring at his shoes “since Allison drove me to school today, I won’t really be needing a ride home…” Scott’s voice got quieter and quieter as the confession went on.  Stiles figured he wouldn’t need a ride home, and it wasn’t like Stiles even had the option to drive Scott home, anyways.  He didn’t even bother explaining how Derek would be Stiles transportation that day, and decided to let Scott feel a little sore for ditching him on their movie night.  

     “No problem, buddy.  Hope you have fun tonight.”  Stiles emptied his locker of the things he needed that night, and gave his friend a small smile, hoping it made him appear fine with the cancellation of that evening.  He tried not to think of it too much, since he had new plans for himself.  He and Scott said their goodbyes, and Stiles headed towards the parking lot.  WHen he walked outside, it was eerily similar to that morning.  Most of his classmates were pausing in their departures to stare at a very shiny and very expensive looking black camaro parked right in front of the school.  Derek was punctual.  

     Stiles bounded down the steps towards the vehicle and happily opened the passenger door.  He was on a mission.

     “Hey, Big Bad.”  Stiles smiled at the slightly frowning but otherwise calm Derek in the drivers seat.  

     “Where do you need to go?”  Derek didn’t offer a hello, but Stiles would take what he could get.  He shoved his backpack down by his feet and turned to buckle himself in.  

     “First stop is the movie store.  Then the groceries.  But I know exactly what I need and it won’t take more than twenty minutes tops.”  Stiles was quick to mention how he wouldn't take long. The werewolf didn’t seem to care either way as he pulled out from the front of the school.  The two traveled in silence (part of Stiles’ plan involved him talking less than usual.) and soon they were parking out front of the video rental place.  “I swear I will be back in less than five minutes you can even count if you want.”  Without waiting for an answer, he let himself out of the car and made his way into the store.  

     The place was not busy in the slightest and he found what he was looking for with no problem.  He hurried up to the counter and laid the movie on the surface, waiting for the cashier to ring him up.  After forking over a few crinkled bills, Stiles went back out to the car, movie in hand.  Opening the car door, he plopped down onto the soft seating.  Derek glanced at the movie, but Stiles shoved it in his backpack before he could see.  It was going to be a surprise.   Derek didn’t seem to care, and he silently pulled out back onto the main road and headed towards the grocery store.  Stiles absentmindedly reached for the window button and pressed it.  

     Nothing happened.  Derek still didn’t want Stiles to be messing with his car.  Sighing internally, but convinced not to ruin his good behavior by complaining, he settled into his seat, and enjoyed the calm of the drive.  Derek glanced over to Stiles a few times and looked a little confused.  Maybe he was being a little to quiet.  Derek would probably think something was wrong.  

     “Do you have plans tonight?”  Stiles mused.  He was hoping he didn’t since operation “get Derek to not hate Stiles” needed the alpha to be actually present.  He glanced to the man next to him, and saw that he had an eyebrow raised.  

     “Are you asking me on a date?” Stiles could feel himself blush.  Oh fuck.  Now that Derek had said that, his plan really felt like a date.  No no no no no it wasn’t a date.  He had just been thinking of Derek becoming a friend, if not acquaintance.  A date? That was on a whole other level.  And lets be honest, Stiles wouldn’t be opposed to dating someone as hot as Derek, but did he want it to be Derek?  Sure he now knew he cared about the man, but deciding he liked him would probably need more time than the majority of a school day.

     “No no no no.  I’m not.  Not that I wouldn’t ask you.  Or that I _want_ to.   _But not because you aren’t my type_. Oh jesus I am just going to stop talking.”  He was doing a bang up job at messing this up.  All he had to do was do something nice for the alpha and he messed it up by being weird.  Derek scoffed at Stiles and pulled into the grocery store.  Stile barely waited for the car to park before he was flying out of the vehicle.  Stiles sped walked into the building and headed towards the pasta aisle.  Trying not to overthink things, he grabbed the right kind of noodle, some sauce, and the other ingredients.   He willed himself not to stall and made himself go to the check out.  The store had everything he needed and he made his way back to the camaro.  Stiles slid back inside, keeping his eyes down in embarrassment.  Derek exited the parking lot without a word and the two of them made their way back to his loft.  

     Eventually the car pulled up next to Stiles’ jeep.  Derek turned the vehicle off and made to get out when Stiles finally opened his mouth.

     “So I wasn’t joking when I said I am not asking you out.  But I figured we could...hang out?  I mean if you were cool with it.  I just figured since you never really got to spend time with anyone in the pack besides meetings, it could be nice and stuff.”  Stiles cut himself off before he started to ramble too much.

     “Hang out?” Derek’s eyes narrowed slightly like he thought Stiles had an ulterior motive. Normally Stiles would agree, but he honestly just wanted to hang out with Derek.  Maybe try and actually develop their friendship.

     “Yeah.  I mean I kinda got a movie and some stuff for pasta...I figured we could we could watch it and I could make dinner…ya know.  Hang out.”  Stiles suddenly felt stupid for thinking it would be fun for them to hang out.  Just because he liked to spend time with Derek doesn’t mean the other guy would want to do the same.

     “Don’t you want to eat with your father?”  Derek asked.  Stiles was surprised he didn’t just outright refuse.  

     “It isn’t really an option since he works late on Thursdays.  You can say no, if you want…” Stiles felt like Derek would appreciate the out.  The man looked back at him for what seemed like an eternity, just blinking.  Stiles tried not to squirm under the gaze.

     “No, that sounds..alright.”  Derek finally said softly.  Stiles felt his eyes widen.

     “Really?  Wow, okay.  Um.  Lets just. Get inside then.  I’ll start making stuff and you can….do whatever.”  Stiles eagerly hopped out of the car and quickly put his bag in the jeep, not wanting to forget it again.   Derek got out of the camaro as well and started walking towards the loft.  Once his bag was in the jeep, Stiles jogged up to Derek.  The two made it through the building, traveling to the top floor and finally reached the loft’s door.  Stiles thankfully saw Derek had grabbed the bags (which also contained the movie) after he realized he had left them behind.  

     Stiles was nothing if not nervous.  This night could be a lot of things.  It was his chance to show Derek that they could get along and be actual friends, instead of just tolerating each other.  He could finally show Derek that he meant something to Stiles after all this time. Operation “get Derek to not hate Stiles” was still on.   

     The night was also a big one for another reason.  It was the last night he had before he went to stay with his uncle.  But even such a dark thought couldn’t keep stiles from buzzing with excitement over the idea of him and Derek getting along.  The two entered the loft and Stiles quickly made his way towards the kitchen in order to make food for himself and his alpha.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make the next chapter part of this one, but then it would be too long, so I decided to split it into two. Next chapter is something I have wanted to write since I thought of this fic. :]


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for you guys to read this update! Hopefully you like it. I have lots of notes after this chapter. (ALSO kinda almost smut? I tried to keep it as..non graphic and brief as I could since I don't want to just add random smut in a story for the sake of smut. If I put something it, it will be because I think it fits with the story, not because I wanna write crazy sex scenes. Not that those aren't fun, haha.)

     Stiles moved around the kitchen like it was his own home.  Derek didn't have a whole lot of materials but luckily the werewolf had the basic pots and pans.  Stiles filled a large pot with water and set it on the stove to boil.  He opened a bag of bow tie pasta and dumped the contents into the liquid.  While that was starting, He got out the loaf of bakers bread he bought.  It took him a few seconds, but he located an adequate knife (he was slightly surprised Derek even owned a knife since he had claws handy for any cutting purposes) to cut the loaf.  When he had cut half of the bread, he placed the remainders back in its' bag and retrieved the butter and seasonings from his grocery haul.  He missed cooking.  Even in the early stages of preparing the meal, Stiles felt an old part of his memory bloom to the surface.  It was like a flower stretching for the first rays of sunlight after a harsh winter.  He let himself fall into the rhythm of old thoughts smells and sights.  His mother had always cooked for him and his father.  Eventually Stiles would wander into the kitchen and pester her about whatever she was making.  She would hop him up onto the counter and show him how she was rinsing the vegetables or cutting the meat.  She'd explain why one type of bread was better for stew and one was better for pasta.  Stiles, the ever knowledge hungry boy, soaked in every word.  He quickly learned all of her favorite recipes, and happily added his and his father's to the list as well.  Eventually, he was helping with dinner.  The two of them would fall into a pattern of him preparing the ingredients while she did the actual concocting.  She would sing quietly under her breath as the two worked.  Even now, Stiles found he was humming to himself.  He mixed the butter and handful of spices in a bowl to make a decent paste for the garlic bread.  He thoroughly coated each piece before setting them on an empty skillet next to the now boiling water.  He gently stirred the water with a wooden spoon, making sure the pasta cooked evenly.  Cooking was a great way for him to focus since it allowed him to multitask enough to appease his hyperactive tendencies.  His mom picked up on such a thing as well, and if he was having a particularly exciting day, she would make him go into the kitchen and make some cookies for his father.  

      Stiles wished he could cook more often, but it seemed like he never had the chance.  His dad was never home so it wasn't like he had someone to cook for. Plus, he himself wasn't home often enough.  Having a pack of werewolves as his closest friends kind of kept him busy.  So Stiles was enjoying this as much as he could.  He turned around to start with the salad on the kitchen island, when he saw Derek in the doorway.  He had a look in his eyes he couldn't quite place.  Almost intrigue, but something a little softer.  Just under the surface. Stiles looked back at the man, taking in his appearance.  He was wearing dark jeans with a dark red henley.  Stiles was a little impressed the man branched out from his usual monochromatic color choice.  Stiles thought the color suited Derek.  If nothing else, the shirt definitely suited Derek's body.  Stiles tried not to focus on the muscles in Derek's arms and chest, pushing against the fabric of the shirt.  Swallowing, Stiles went back to his task at hand.  He cut the head of lettuce and started to further dice the leaves into smaller pieces.  He saw Derek move out of the corner of his eyes to sit in a chair across from Stiles.  

    "I didn't know you cooked." Derek said quietly.  Stiles didn't look up from his work.  Instead, he reached for a bowl to rinse his new salad off in.  Finding one, he put his contents into it and turned to the sink.

    "What can I say?  I'm full of surprises."  Stiles was going to leave it at that, and he did for a moment.  He stood there, watching the water slowly rise around the lettuce.  When the water was at the right level, he turned off the flow and thrust his hands into the leaves, tossing it gently.  Something about the moment, maybe it was him thinking about his mom, (maybe it was just the fact that Derek made Stiles feel comfortable) but Stiles ended up continuing his thoughts.  "My mom taught me."  He opened his mouth to go on, but nothing more came out.  It wasn't that Stiles had nothing to say (that rarely happened) but it just seemed like there were too many things to say.

    Derek stayed silent for a while.  Stiles knew the werewolf had heard him, though.  Stiles didn't try and force conversation after he opened up like that.  Instead, the only sound in the room came from the slight sizzling the garlic bread was making, and the quiet ruffling from Stiles continuing to toss the salad.  It continued like that for what seemed like hours.  Stiles figured he would just move on to a new subject matter soon enough, but Derek finally spoke up.

    "My mother tried to get me to help in the kitchen.  I always ended up ruining the meal.  Eventually she gave up and accepted that I should stay clear of cooking."  Stiles had stopped what his hands were doing and just listened.  Derek had never once talked about his family with Stiles in any form other than necessity. Stiles let Derek's voice hang in the air long after he finished speaking.  He knew he could continue talking about things, but something in him said to let that be the end of it.  To not over do what was going on.  So Stiles resigned to throwing a sympathetic glance towards Derek and a small but genuine smile.  Derek didn't return the smile, but his eyes were soft and bright.  

    The two of them stayed in silence for a while.  Stiles dutifully worked on the food and Derek stayed seated, just watching.  Stiles would have felt self conscious if it were anyone other than Derek, but the man made him feel comfortable. It was a pleasant feeling to know the other person was sitting near by, keeping an eye on what Stiles was doing.  Maybe being friends with Derek would be easier than he thought.  Derek didn't need to stay in the kitchen, and Stiles knew if he didn't _want_ to be, he wouldn't be.  Stiles went back to humming under his breath.  He knew his voice wouldn't sell any records, but it wasn't going to make a person's ears bleed if they heard it.  He figured he would be able to get away with a soft hum.  Eventually, the food was ready.  Stiles had already seasoned the pasta sauce and had it ready in a bowl.  Derek had taken the liberty of setting the table.  Stiles instructed for Derek to bring over the sauce and salad while Stiles worked on getting the garlic bread and pasta ready.  Soon enough, everything was set in front of them.  Derek looked hesitant to start eating, so Stiles took a piece of bread and scooped a generous helping of pasta onto his plate.

    "We might as well eat it, dude.  I swear it isn't going to bite.  That's your job."  Stiles smiled at the eye roll he received from Derek, who was now adding the salad to his plate.  It turned out better than Stiles had hoped.  He added some strawberries, tomatoes, mozzarella, dressing and a few croutons.  He could have added bacon, but too many years of refusing his father it had stopped him.  Old habits die hard.  Stiles watched as Derek put the other food items on his plate and took his first bite of a piece of bread.  Derek's eyes closed and Stiles swore he heard a noise of appreciation.  

    "Wow." Was all Derek said, but it was enough to make Stiles smile into his own food.  He tried everything for himself, and was happy with how everything turned out.  Derek must have agreed because it wasn't long before the werewolf was having a second helping of pasta and his third piece of garlic bread.  Stiles pat himself on the back. "Sorry.  About the whole...checking in...thing."  Derek murmured from across the table.  Stiles wasn't sure he heard it, he was so quiet.  He looked up from his plate to Derek who was soaking some of the sauce up with his bread.  

    "What do you mean?" Stiles asked.  

    "I know you would rather Scott be paired up with you but–"

    "I wouldn't."  Stiles cut Derek off.  "Sure, he's my best friend, but the dude only has Allison on his mind.  You're just saving me from hearing more about how sweet and kind and blah blah blah."  Stiles waved his hand at the concept, dismissing Derek's need for an apology. "Besides, I like talking to you."  Stiles shrugged at the true statement.  Derek's handful of bread stopped midway to his mouth.

    "Really?"  Derek looked surprised.  Surprised and slightly guarded.  Stiles didn't like that he seemed so shocked about Stiles liking talking to him.

    "Well yeah.  When you're not slamming my head into steering wheels, you're really nice to be around."  Stiles shrugged again.  

    "And when you're not annoying the hell out of me, you're...not bad to be around, either."  Derek mused.  Stiles choked on his water and coughed through his smile.

    "No fair, man."  He continued to cough. "No making me laugh when I'm drinking."  He tried to glare at Derek, but the man's eyebrows were feigning innocence and Stiles couldn't keep up the scowl.  Eventually he gave up and just chuckled.  

     Dinner was comfortable.  The two mainly focused on eating, but they chatted as well.  It was an interesting environment to be in.  Stiles had the feeling like he could say anything he wanted, but knew lighter topics were best at the moment. Eventually, the pasta was almost finished along with the salad.  Derek, however, had almost single handedly finished all of the garlic bread.  Stiles made a mental note to make some more soon.  The recipe was easy enough and Derek seemed to enjoy it. They got up and went to the sink to wash the dishes.  Stiles washed while Derek dried.  It reminded him of all the times he would stay at Scott's house.  Ms.McCall would make the two boys do the dishes.  Stiles wondered if Derek ever had to do dishes.  He would probably dry while one of his siblings washed.

     The thought made Stiles stop washing the pot he was on.  Derek probably did do dishes and chores and things like that.  He probably had to clean this house with his siblings.  But all of those siblings were dead.  He had only Laura and Peter for the longest time and then Peter killed her. Derek had tried mourning her the best way he could.  But he had no proper grave for her.  No funeral.  All he could do was bury her as gently as he could in a hole near his home.  And then Scott and Stiles had to dig her up and then accuse Derek of killing her. Stiles had to fuck it up.

     "Derek.."  Stiles started with.  Derek paused for a moment with the dish he was drying, noticing the change in Stiles' attitude. 

     "Stiles.." He mimicked.  Stiles handed him the last dish.

     "I'm sorry.  For what Scott and I did to Laura.  What I did to Laura.  What I did to you."  Stiles took a breath and looked back to the sink in front of him.  He reached into it and unplugged the drain.  Watching the water flow downward in a small whirlpool, he continued.  "I never apologized for what I did.  And I'm sorry."

     "You didn't know."  Was all Derek said.  He was slowly drying the dish in his hands. Probably not even focusing on the task.

     "That doesn't change anything."  Stiles thought about how if someone had done what he had, to his mother's grave, he would be sick.  He would be furious at whoever had done such a thing.  But  _he_ did it.  He made himself sick. He looked at Derek.  Looked right into his eyes.  "Derek, I'm sorry.  If I could go back and change it, I would."  Stiles saw Derek's shoulders loosen in a slight movement, but he still looked tense. 

     "Thank you..for apologizing."  Derek gave him a small nod.  Stiles knew it wasn't a forgiveness.  He didn't deserve one.  But it was something.  

     The two stood there for a few more seconds, just taking in the moment.  Stiles reminded himself that just because there was a silence, doesn't mean he had to fill it with his voice.  So instead, he turned and motioned for Derek to follow.  He lead them into the living room where he had left the movie under a pillow.  He knew Derek could have peeked if he wanted to, but Stiles had hoped he would leave it hidden under the cushion.  Without thinking, Stiles put his hands on each of Derek's shoulders, and led him to the couch.  He pushed lightly, making the man sit.  Stiles snatched the movie case from it's hiding place and proceeded to stand across the room near the television with it behind his back.  

     "Mr. Hale.  I, Stiles Stilinski, am proud to announce you and I are about to embark on a glorious adventure filled with nostalgia and spandex." Derek's eyes widened in shock and Stiles realized what he said.  "Now don't get your hopes up, my dear fellow.  We can discuss kinks on a later date." With that, Stiles wriggled his own eyebrows mischievously and enjoyed the flustered look Derek returned him with.  Stiles didn't let himself take the time to realize how easily he was joking with Derek.  Instead, he went on with his presentation. "I present to you, my alpha, a cinematic classic of heroic proportions."  With a quick movement, he revealed the movie from behind him and shook it back and forth.  "That's right! We are watching Batman Returns!!!"  Stiles was all but shrieking in his excitement.  Derek, however, looked completely bored, if not a little terrified of Stiles' intensity.  

     "Is...is it that new movie that is supposed to come out tonight?"  Derek asked softly after he watched Stiles vibrate in front of him for a few seconds.  Stiles dropped his arms to his side along with dropping his mouth.  

     "There are so many things I need to say to what you just vomited out in front of me."  Stiles could pass out from Derek's ineptitude.  "To answer your question, no it is not the new superhero movie that came out tonight.  How would I have a copy of it if it premiered tonight?  I mean, I am totally flattered you think that highly of my pirating abilities, but I'm not  _that_ good.  Next, this movie is not new.  That is why I called it a classic. Duh.  Finally,  _I cannot believe you haven't seen this move."_  

     "I don't watch a lot of movies..." Derek looked a little irritated but somewhat shy.

     "Well it looks like I get to educate you in the best the film industry has to offer.  Now. Sit back, relax, and enjoy Michelle Pfeiffer as Selena Kyle." Stiles beamed at Derek, who just looked as lost as he did before.  Stile sighed loudly. "Selena Kyle is the secret identity of Cat Woman.  Get it together, man.  If you and I are going to be spending time together, you need to know these things!"  Stiles quickly turned around before Derek could make himself look even more idiot in front of Stiles.  At least the guy had one fault.  The wolf was completely obtuse when it came to movies and superheroes.  Stiles would take what he could get.  I mean, even with that one fault, the guy had looks, strength, could grow a beard, emotive eyebrows, fangs, a nice car, broad shoulders, a tight ass– _holy god he had to stop thinking about this._

He quickly put the movie in and bounded back to the couch.  Sitting on his side of the cushions, Stiles adjusted himself to where he could clearly see Derek's reaction to the movie.  Stiles hoped he liked it....and if he didn't, well he was wrong.  The movie started and Stiles immediately made sure Derek was paying attention to every detail. 

     "Make sure notice how this batman doesn't use as many puns as the George Clooney movie.  We avoid that movie at all cost, and don't acknowledge its' existence."

     "That's how she actually became Cat Woman."

     "That's Danny Devito!  Look!  That fat ass with the umbrella?   _That is Danny Devito!"_

     Eventually Derek gave up on trying to stop Stiles from his commentary.  After his scowls did little to stop him, Derek just gave up and listened.  If Stiles was serious, it looked like Derek was even in agreement whenever Stiles complained about a certain actor, or praised the script for a certain one-liner.  Maybe the alpha had some hope to become as well versed as Stiles in movies.  It wasn't until the credits were rolling that Stiles noticed he was flush against the werewolf.  He tended to move around when he was excited and he guessed at some point, he gravitated towards the man.  Derek didn't seem to mind, and after Stiles originally went to move away, he let himself sink into the seat, enjoying the presence of the other person.  

     "Told you it was good.  I'm not even going to ask if you liked it because I know you did because you would be a dumb, dumb alpha werewolf with poor taste if you said otherwise."  Derek just hummed in response, almost like he was holding back a chuckle.  Stiles hadn't seen Derek this relaxed in a while, and it made him feel good to think he was at least partly responsible.  He hoped to make Derek feel this way more often.  Looking around, he saw that the room had gotten much darker since the sun went down.  Groaning, he picked up his phone and turned on the screen.  It was almost 9:00.  Derek seemed to notice this as well.

     "You should probably get home.  It's getting late."  If Stiles wasn't mistaken, Derek sounded almost...upset about Stiles having to leave.  But that couldn't be right.  

     "I would much rather stay here, but yeah.  I have to get home and do some homework before school.  Plus I gotta pack."  The words were out before he knew.

     "Pack?"  Derek looked at Stiles, eyebrows raised in confusion.

     "Oh, yeah....I guess you should know since...babysitting and stuff."  Stiles ignored the eye roll he got from Derek at the babysitting jibe. He had to tell Derek this.  He would find out eventually, and Derek would just be mad if Stiles didn't tell him.  Besides, he just needed to say the basics.  Nothing more.  "My dad is going out of town tomorrow and so I'm staying with my uncle until he gets back.  I know, I'm old enough to stay on my own, but the man is a worrier." Stiles tried to play off the nerves he suddenly felt.  Derek looked back at him.  His eyes glanced down to Stiles' hands.  Stiles didn't realize he was rubbing them together from the buzzing they had in them.  He willed himself to stop, but the tingling didn't stop.  

     "Oh, okay.  That shouldn't be a problem."  Derek sounded nonchalant, but his eyes were fixed on Stiles hands.  The kid prayed his heart was steady enough to not alert the werewolf of anything he was feeling.  

     "Well, I guess I should get going."  Stiles got up off the couch and made for the door, but a hand shot up from the couch to grab his own.  Instinctively, he flinched away from the contact, fearing another beating.  It took a moment of looking down at a wide eyed Derek, to calm himself.  He was fine.  Just Derek.  "Sorry.  Just jumpy from the action in that movie, heh."  Stiles hoped he sounded at least a little better than he thought.  He shouldn't  be so jumpy around Derek.  The dude would never hurt him like his uncle.  

     "Yeah..." Derek's eyes narrowed slightly but then reverted back to normal. "I just wanted to stop you before you left so I could say–so I could say thank you.  For tonight."  Derek seemed shy again.  Stiles looked down at the wolf, most of his nerves gone for the moment. 

     "Uh, no problem.  I actually had a lot of fun.  We should–we should do it again after I get back from my uncle's."  Stiles was genuine about it, too.  He would really like to spend more time with Derek.  He made Stiles feel calm, which is nice since he was usually off the walls.  

     "Why not before then?"  Derek questioned, head cocking slightly to the side.  That was not cute.  Nope.  Not at all.  Damn it, stop thinking it was cute.

     "Oh, uh.  Uncle Tom isn't always cool with me hanging out late and stuff.  I don't know.  I guess we'll see." Stiles desperately wanted the attention to be somewhere else than on him at that moment. He didn't like talking about this.  Derek either let it go, believed him, or saw Stiles was feeling upset about talking about it.  

     "Sure.  Text me when you're going to bed, okay?"  Stiles nodded at the order, but noted how Derek technically asked, instead of demanded.  It made Stiles feel a lot better than he did only seconds before.  It was like Derek could defuse the bomb in Stiles' head like it was nothing.  It was addicting: Derek.  Stiles kept wanting to be around him.  The protection he felt with Derek was huge. He made Stiles feel level headed.  He felt cared for, and when it was just them (like tonight, before they began talking about his uncle) his hands never tingled.  In fact, unless someone mentioned him, Stiles completely forgot about his uncle when he was with Derek.  He bid the werewolf a goodnight and headed out the door, movie in hand.   

     The drive home was a welcome event, after the jeep struggled to turn on a few times.  As usual, Stiles rolled the windows down and turned the radio off.  It wasn't as good as his dream the night before, but it was close.  Maybe he would get Derek to go on one of these drives sometime.  Unfortunately, he got to his house and the drive had to end.  He hopped out of the jeep and let himself into the house, backpack slung on his shoulder.  His father still wasn't home and probably wouldn't be for a while, so Stiles just went upstairs to shower.  

     Stripping out of his clothes, Stiles walked into the bathroom, eagerly turning on the hot water.  After it heated up, he stepped into the stream.  He didn't try to hide the moan of pleasure he let out form the relaxing heat.  The water quickly massaged his tight muscles and Stiles let his head fall back into the spray.  He ran his hands over his body, rubbing soap over his skin.  Eventually he cleaned between his legs and maybe it was the light touch or the warm water, but Stiles somehow ended up touching himself before he knew it.  Whatever, he was a horny teenage boy, this was allowed.  He tried to just enjoy the feeling he was giving himself, but he found his mind wandering.  Try as he might, he couldn't get the image of strong hands, large shoulders, and leather jackets out of his head. Imagining those large hands grabbing him instead of himself, Stiles brought himself to completion, groaning Derek's name.    

     After he rinsed himself off, and feeling himself blush for what he had just thought about while jerking off, Stiles got out of the shower.  He dried himself off haphazardly and began to brush his teeth.  After spitting out the paste, he wiped the mirror off from the shower's condensation. Seeing his reflection, he froze.  The bruises were  _still_ not gone.  They weren't gone and he was about to go back to the person who gave him them.  Jesus, he was going to go back to his uncle, and he was just going to get  _more._ Fuck.  Sighing, he ran the towel over his hair once more before heading to his bedroom.  He quickly dressed to cover the marks, and got into bed to do a little homework.  While he completed the minimum, he couldn't bring himself to do more than that.  Eventually he just threw his school work to the floor, and resigned to letting himself rest.  Lord knows he won't half a lot of it once he gets to his uncle's house. 

     Grabbing his phone, he texted Derek. 

     " _I'm headed to bed, Sourwolf.  Goodnight."_ The response was only seconds after he sent the message.

     " _Goodnight, Stiles."_ The two words were small, but even still Stiles felt better.  Maybe having Derek to talk to while at his uncle's would make things better.  Maybe he could do this.  He still had that last night, at least.  He still could enjoy sleeping in his own bed, without worrying about when his next beating was going to happen.  He had this one last night of peace.

But tomorrow.  Tomorrow was when his hell would start, and Stiles only hoped Derek would be able to keep him from falling apart.  

****  
  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. Sorry if these notes are long. But I wanted to let people know that this fic has never been my intention of being a quick little thing. Hopefully, if everything goes the way I want it to, it will be pretty long (like hopefully 60,000 words? IDK I HOPE) Also, I mentioned the smut in the beginning notes. I want to elaborate about that. A lot of the fics I read tend to be tainted by random sex scenes and I want to make sure any sex stuff in this fic actually goes with the story. So just don't expect sex after sex after sex. If I think it fits, and will push the story along, SURE! I will be all for a little sterek action between the sheets! Also, this next chapter will really be the last one before any graphic violence starts. Then the tags will start to make more sense than they do now. I SWEAR. Wow okay I think that's it for now. HOPE YOU KEEP READING!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The really nice comments you guys left motivated me to get started on this update right away. Surprise!

     If anyone were to see how early Stiles  _willingly_ got up that morning, no one would believe it.  Surely it was some sort of clone of Stiles, and not the spazz they were used to.  But it was.  Stiles had gotten up almost a whole two hours early in order to make a killer breakfast for his dad.  Thinking about it, "killer" might actually be the correct word choice because Stiles even got bacon for the man.  It was their last morning together for a while, and Stiles wanted to leave on a high note.  So he had made all the stops.  Orange juice, coffee, pancakes, eggs (both scrambled and over easy because he was just that fancy), real legitimate bacon, sausage links, strawberries, and even artery clogging maple syrup.  He wanted to do this.  His dad was everything to Stiles, and he was going to be without him for longer than he wanted.  And even if Stiles knew how much crap he put his dad through, he hoped his dad still knew how much Stiles would miss him.  So he chose to ignore his father's usual diet this one morning, and let the man enjoy the food.  Sure enough, his father entered the kitchen a whole twenty minutes early (probably because of the smell making its' way up to his room).  Stiles looked up from where he was scooping the bacon onto the plate, to see a very surprised man in the doorway.

     "Who are you, and what have you done with my son?"  His father asked quietly.

     "Very funny, Dad.  So very, very funny.  Do the people at the station know you're this hilarious?"  Stiles quipped.  He finished serving the food onto his Father's usual spot, and the man finally made his way to the table with a skeptical look still on his face.

     "What's the occasion?"  He asked sitting down. He picked up a piece of bacon and Stiles honest to God thought the man would get tears in his eyes if he looked at it any longer.  Instead, he decided to actually take a bite, resulting a very intimate moan escaping his lips.  Not exactly something Stiles wanted to hear from his dad. Ignoring the uncomfortable noises he was hearing, he replied.

     "Well, you're leaving today and I just thought it would be nice to leave with a nice breakfast this morning." Stiles shrugged, trying to play it off, but he was very much hoping that his dad appreciated it.  

     "Oh.  Well thanks, Kiddo.  This is amazing.  Now make yourself a plate and we can see if the rest of it tastes as good as the bacon."  Stiles smiled and made his own helping of everything.  Yeah, it was definitely worth getting up early to see how content his dad looked.  Settling in, the two men chatted about nothing in particular.  They stayed clear of his father's work, and his dad only asked if Stiles was packed for his uncle's house.  After reassuring his dad that Stiles had enough underwear, and could just drive back to get some, they didn't touch the subject again.  Stiles was thankful for such.  He didn't like having to talk about his uncle with his father.  Talking just lead to lying and Stiles hated doing that even  _if_ the other man knew about werewolves for a while now.  Sure that was the biggest secret to tell, but he didn't want to shed light on his own situation.  His father lost enough with his mother, and losing a brother would just put him over the edge.  So Stiles never brought up his visits and his father, for whatever reason, never asked much. Eventually, Stiles had to go upstairs and actually prepare for the school day.  His father waved him away, saying he would do the dishes since he did the cooking.  Something in his dad's eyes made Stiles wonder if he was remembering the cooking he had always done with his mother.  Regardless, Stiles sauntered upstairs to take a quick shower and get his things ready.  

     Stiles made his way back downstairs, already dressed in a t-shirt and hoodie.  He was feeling adventurous and decided to go with a plain black shirt and a favorite red hoodie.  Unfortunately, he had to banish the pair of jeans from yesterday to the hamper since they were already two days old.  So, new pair of jeans on and sneakers as well, Stiles walked back into the kitchen.  His father was nursing a second cup of coffee and Stiles sat down across from the man in uniform.  Pulling out his phone, he texted Scott.

     " _Would you like a ride this morning?  Or shall you be expecting a certain Argent at your house soon for morning kisses and transportation?"_ After a moment, he continued with a second message.  _"And no, I am not talking about Chris.  Though I bet he wouldn't be opposed to getting some of your sweet, sweet werewolf self. ;]"_ Stiles beamed at the beauty of his text message and his dad just huffed a laugh at whatever his son could be smirking about.  It didn't take long for Scott to reply.

_"Ur a riot.  But yea, I wud like a ride.  Thnx."_  Not even bothering to respond to such a ill worded text, Stiles was about to return his phone to his pocket when he thought about texting a certain alpha.  I mean, he technically needed to stay in contact with the man.  So maybe a good morning text would qualify as such?  Trying not to over think it, Stiles sent a message.  _  
_

     " _Good morning, Big Bad,  just wanted to let you know I will be headed to school in about ten minutes after I pick Scott up."_ There.  Done.  The text was innocent enough and he didn't once mention wanting to hang out again.  He was in the clear.  Totally and 100% in the clear.  Completely fit.  Like Derek.  And his body. Mmm, Derek's body– _holy hell it is way too early for thoughts this dirty._

"Son?  You alright?"  Stiles glanced up from his phone to see his dad eyeing him while taking another sip of coffee. 

     "Me? Yeah! Why–why wouldn't I be? Heh.  _I'm great!_ "  Wow, not his best.  His father's eyebrows raised significantly on his forehead, but they were no match for Derek's own.  The things his eyebrows could express.  Jesus he needed to stop thinking about Derek.  What the hell was wrong with him?  Stiles tried to recover from such an awful answer to his father's question. "Uh, sorry.  Just nervous about you leaving and stuff.  You know, we talked about it kinda, but I really do think I would be okay to stay by myself this time..." Stiles tried to hide the hopefulness in his voice, but lost miserably.  His father sighed and put his coffee down.

     "Son, I am not saying you aren't old enough.  But I just would feel better knowing someone was there with you.  Besides, you love spending time with your uncle."  Stiles (once again) knew the conversation was no longer up for discussion. He nodded and his phone buzzed.  It was from Derek. 

     " _Have fun at school."_ Stiles smiled softly to himself, completely forgetting the short conversation he had with his father just seconds before.  He pocketed his phone and pushed away from the table.   _  
_

     "Well, I gotta go pick Scott up for school.  I'll see you before you leave tonight?"  Stiles prayed his father didn't have to leave earlier than expected.  His father nodded.

     "Of course.  I will stop by the house after school to pick up a few things and say goodbye."  His father responded with a grin on his face.  Stiles smiled back and bid his father a goodbye.  He couldn't let himself get emotional yet.  He still had the comfort of knowing his father was still technically home.  He would allow himself to freak out a little bit when he was actually gone.  It was a strange feeling.  Like the one you get when it was the first day of school in first grade.  The whole morning you know your parent will leave once you get to your classroom.  You two have talked about it a lot, and you swear you're ready.  You tell them over and over you know they'll be back to pick you up.  And the whole morning you tell yourself that you're fine, and that it is no big deal.  And for a little bit, it's true.  But a little voice in the back of your head tells you that as soon as the time comes to say goodbye, you'll cry.  It was just like that.  He knew he was fine, but he _knew_ he would panic a little.  It was an awful feeling that was festering in the pit of his stomach.

     The drive to Scott's was normal.  Windows down and radio off.  Soon enough, he found himself outside his best friend's house.  Scott was waiting patiently on his front porch and gave Stiles the usual wave and grin.  Scott bounded towards the jeep, and jumped into the passenger side.  He threw his bag into the back and settled into the seat.  Stiles smiled and pulled out of the driveway.  It wasn't long before Scott was messing with the radio, though Stiles would have preferred to keep it off.  He guessed Scott just didn't appreciate drives like Stiles did.  He sighed and let Scott tune into his favorite oldies station.  

     "So, what are you doing tonight?"  Scott asked.  He could tell it wasn't an invitation to make plans, just to compare.  He looked at Scott from the sides of his eyes.

     "I told you, I gotta head to my uncle's house since my dad will be gone."  Stiles glanced back at the road ahead of him.

     "Oh duh!  Yeah you told me that.  Sorry.  But that's awesome!  You'll have lots of fun!"  Scott was beaming as usual.  Stiles just scoffed quietly at the irony.  Scott stopped beaming and looked confused. "You don't think it will be as fun as the other times?"  Scott questioned innocently.  Stiles paused before answering.

     "No, no, it will be like the other times." _That was the problem._  "Just uh, not...looking forward to not sleeping in my own bed."  It wasn't a lie since it was actually true..it just wasn't the truth Scott was kinda looking for.  For a minute, Scott looked skeptical but then he quickly groaned in sympathy.

     "Ugh, true!  You're bed is strangely comfortable."  Stiles hummed in agreement, and was thankful Scott decided to stay oblivious. "So I guess that's what  _you're_ doing tonight."  Scott was anything but subtle.  Stiles sighed but was smiling.

     "Tell me, Scott, what are  _your_ plans tonight?"  Stiles let his voice drip was fake interest but Scott didn't even flinch before going on a rampage about what great plans he had.  Allison was the center of them of course, but Stiles didn't expect any differently.  Scott was going to take her out to the Italian place near downtown, because she mentioned she had a craving for it last night.  Which was perfect, apparently.  They had driven out to the look out (predictable, Scott, predictable) and almost got in trouble for staying out too late talking.  Well, Scott claimed they were talking, but Stiles had money on them just playing tonsil hockey.  Regardless, it seemed like Scott thought the night was worth canceling on Stiles.  Stiles was going to let himself feel bitter, but he actually thought  _his_ night  _was_ better than what he had originally planned. He smiled at the memory of hanging out with Derek.  

     Scott was too busy rambling about Allison to notice.

***

     Stiles would have been in a better mood at school since it was a Friday, but he couldn't bring himself to be at ease.  The moment he started to enjoy the end of the week, he remembered what was going to happen that night.  He made it through the first half of the day, though, and he was finally moving towards the lunch room when he finally texted Derek again.

     " _Mighty alpha, this human is now on his way to lunch._ "  Not the best worded text, but it would have to do.  It wasn't until he was firmly seated in his usual spot at the lunch table, that Derek responded.  Stiles took a bite of his pizza, and looked at the message.

     " _Alright, human."_ Stiles almost choked on his pizza when he read it.   Derek was being continuously funny lately. No one seemed to notice his episode, though.  After he calmed himself down, Stiles actually tried to pay attention to what was happening around him.  Scott was talking to Allison about the secret plans he had that night like it was some highly classified information.  Allison acted like she had no idea what he could be planning, but Stiles knew she probably already had figured it out.  Scott was cluelessly shining in happiness. Allison may be taking away his best friend more than Stiles liked, but she was a good person and a great girlfriend.  Stiles saw that Danny was still reading the same book he was a couple days ago.  Jackson and Lydia both were quiet, and angrily eating their food.  They probably broke up again.  He figured they would be back together either before the school day ended or even before lunch was done.  Glancing down at the end of the table, he saw Isaac, Boyd, and Erica laughing.  Boyd had a dazed look on his face and Erica was picking pieces of pizza off his head while Isaac was holding his side because he was laughing so hard.  Stiles found himself grinning at the sight, himself.  Stiles was going to ask Lydia and Jackson what they're plans were for the weekend, but he already knew they were going to be at the loft Saturday night for the pack meeting.  The two meetings a week were always on Saturday and Tuesday.  Sometimes they had additional meetings or had to rearrange the schedule, but they mostly fell on those days.   Plus, he figured they weren't the two best people to talk to at the moment.  Jackson was annoyed at best, and Lydia was just...intimidating at all times.   He figured he would just let them stew in their irritated moods for the moment.  Resigning to playing more angry birds, Stiles let the rest of the lunch hour pass without much more event. 

***

     Finally, the school day ended.  Actually, if Stiles thought about it, he supposed he wasn't all too excited about that fact.  Now that the school day was over, there was nothing to do before he went home to say goodbye to his dad.  Realizing such, his hands started to buzz.   He could actually feel the individual scars on his palms like they were each trying to take him back to that day so many years before.  Trying to shake the feeling from his hands, He met Scott at his locker. 

     "Hey, Scotty."  Stiles opened with. "Ready to head home?"  Scott nodded and slapped a hand around his shoulders.  Stiles willed himself not to flinch back.  The pair made it to the parking lot and soon enough they were headed towards Scott's house.  Scott chose to roll up his window on the drive over, but Stiles made him keep the radio off.  He would take what he could get.  He dropped Scott off at his house and the boy told him to tell his dad goodbye for him, and Stiles agreed that he would.  Pulling out of the driveway, Stiles tried not to focus on the idea that he was headed towards his dad leaving.

     Even with him driving slowly, Stiles arrived home far too quickly.  His father's cruiser was in the driveway.  Normally, Stiles would have been excited at such a sight, but knowing the reason it was parked there, he was only upset. He parked his own jeep next to the cruiser, and took a few moments to steady his nerves before he got out.  Shuffling to the front door, he slowly let himself in.  He could hear his dad in the kitchen, messing with what sounded like the coffee maker if his father's cursing was anything to go by.

     "Dad, honestly, you drink coffee constantly.  You should be able to work the dang thing." Stiles joked as he entered the room.  His father was currently making evil eyes at the machine in question.

     "You would think, wouldn't you."  His father let Stiles take over with the coffee and soon enough, Stiles had an actual cup of joe ready.  His father thanked him gratefully, muttering about how he wasn't going to get his usual caffeine intake without his son.  Hearing the grumbled compliment, Stiles left his heart ache with the thought of his father needing him for something for once.  Usually it was the other way around. He talked with his dad about how school was.  The conversation was nothing they hadn't had before, but Stiles enjoyed the familiarness.  Eventually, his father finished his coffee and rinsed the cup out before putting it back in the cabinet.  He turned towards his son, who was dutifully staring at his clasped hands on the counter.

     "Well.  I guess I should be heading out."  Stiles couldn't see the conflicted look on his father's face since he was still staring at his hands.

     "Yeah...I wouldn't want you to miss the whole trip completely, and end up staying here, haha."  Stiles didn't even hide his sadness.  His father didn't say anything but he heard his footsteps go from the kitchen sink to right next to him.

     "Stiles."  Stiles didn't look up. "Stiles, look at me, Kiddo."  Finally, Stiles forced his eyes from his hands to his father's face.  He looked as upset as Stiles felt. "I swear I will only be gone for a few weeks.  I will be back before you know it.  Then it will be just you and me again, I promise.  But in the mean time, you can spend time with your uncle and you won't even notice I'm gone."  His father was trying to smile, but it didn't reassure Stiles any. 

      "Of course I'll notice you're gone.  I just."   He was trying to keep it together as best as he could, but he decided there was no point.  This was his father, and he was going to miss him.  More than that, his was the man who represented safety and home and love.  He was leaving, and Stiles had to go back to his uncle.  He had to go back to beatings and verbal abuse and fear.  Stiles finally gave up on trying to hold it together and ended up launching himself at his father, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. "I just don't want you to _go_ , Daddy."  Stiles voice broke slightly towards the end of the admission, and he felt his father's arms wrap around his own body.  

     "I know.  I don't wanna leave either, Kiddo.  But I promise I'll be back soon.  And I will call to check up on you.  Can't let you burn the city down while I'm away." His dad squeezed tightly, and Stiles grumbled about not being able to breathe, but laughed shakily.  His father released him and Stiles blinked back the water from his eyes.  "Now I told your uncle to expect you about 6:00.  So you have some time before you need to head over.  Make sure you lock up before you leave, though, okay?"  Stiles nodded and he walked with his dad towards the front door.  Stiles apparently hadn't noticed the suitcases near the entryway when he first entered, but there they were.  A physical manifestation of his father's leaving.  Stiles took in a breath while he watched his dad exit the house and pull the luggage towards his vehicle.  Soon enough the bags were in the car, and his dad came back for one last hug. "Alright, Kiddo.  I'm off.  I love you."

     Stiles held onto his father longer than he probably should have, but he didn't care.  He just let himself feel the comfort he always felt when he hugged his dad.  Sighing a little, he let his father go and looked up at him. "I love you, too dad." The man gave him a small smile, and turned to walk to his car.  Once inside, his father gave him a little wave before pulling the cruiser out of the driveway and out of Stiles' line of vision.  Stiles sniffled a little and walked back into the house.  He didn't remember heading to his room or laying down on his bed, but the next thing he knew, he was waking up to his phone buzzing.  Glancing at the time before he unlocked his phone, he saw that it was 5:28.  He had to leave soon.  Typing in his passcode, Stiles read the message from "Sourwolf"

     " _Heard your dad left today."_ Stiles wasn't sure what the intent was behind the message, but he replied anyway.

     " _Yeah.  He left this afternoon."_ He didn't even get to put his phone down before the next message was up.

     " _I'm sorry he had to leave.  I hope the trip goes by quickly for you."_ Stiles just blinked at the screen for a few moments.  The trip wouldn't go by quickly.  It would drag by so slowly, it would kill him.  His father would be gone and he would be stuck in hell with his uncle.  But he felt better to know Derek was sympathizing with him. Stiles thanked Derek and rattled off the address of his uncle's house.  That way he knew where he would be.  Derek replied just as Stiles was locking up the front door. 

     " _Maybe I will stop by."_ Stiles was a little nervous at such a statement.  Derek could  _not_ come to his uncle's house.  His uncle hated it whenever Stiles brought someone over to his house.  The meeting would only result in a harsher beating after Derek left.

     " _That's okay, man.  I will probably just go to bed when I get there."_ Stiles was thankful that Derek couldn't see how he was shaking when he sent the text message. He didn't get an immediate response, so he continued towards the jeep, bags in tow.  He loaded them up in the back of his baby, and got into the driver's seat.  He turned the key in the ignition a few times before it finally roared to life (he was yet to be let down by his precious jeep), and slowly left the safety of his own home.  The drive to his uncle's house wasn't as enjoyable as the previous times in the car.  He left the windows up and even had the radio on.  The station was still on the oldies choice Scott had made before.  He drove as slowly as he could, trying to put off the inevitable.  But all too soon, he had arrived.  He parked the jeep on the side of the road in front of the house since his uncle yelled at him for parking in the driveway during his last visit.  He forced himself out of the jeep, and grabbed his bags.  Walking up to the front door, he tried to will his hands to stop shaking even though they were ablaze in buzzing.  

     He reached an unsteady hand to the door and knocked lightly.  At first he thought his leg started to buzz with the same phantom feeling as his palms but he realized that it was his phone.  Derek must have texted back.  He was going to take it out and read it, but the door opened in front of him.  

     Stiles tried to steady his breath as he took in his uncle's form, face stern, and drink already in hand. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up for the next chapter, folks. Buckle up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I'm not spoiling you guys with such frequent updates, but I know how bad it sucks to be left with a cliff hanger. So here you go! Also, there is a reason I tagged this the way I did...

     Uncle Tom just stared at Stiles.  He didn't say hello (which wasn't strange) or tell him to come in.  He just stared.  Stiles took in the appearance of the man.  He was four good inches taller than Stiles, with hair the color and length of his father's, but the similarities ended there.  Though he was only a few years older than his father, his light brown hair had begun to gather some grey on the top. Where his father had laugh lines, Uncle Tom had frown lines.  Were his fathers eyes were warm, his uncle's were a cold dark brown, almost black.  They were sunken back and empty due to the drinking. His father had just begun to put on the weight so many men his age begin gather around the stomach area, but Uncle Tom was still pretty fit.  His shirt laid unbuttoned with the sleeves pushed up, showing off his still better than average physique.  His face was still sneering at Stiles, a light shadow of stubble on his face from not shaving.  Stiles eyes caught sight of the drink again, and he forced himself to look down at his own feet.

     "Hello, Sir."  Stiles said quietly.  His uncle just huffed and went back into the house, leaving the door open behind him. It was as much of an invitation as Stiles was going to get.  He grabbed his bags and followed slowly behind him.  The house was the same as it was a few weeks ago.  Immediately after the entryway, you could take a left to the stairs, a right into a room which held a piano that hadn't been used in years, or one could go straight down a hallway past a bathroom into the main room.  He set his bags by the stairs and walked down the hallway.  He paused at the end of it, turning his head left towards the kitchen and then right towards the small living room.  His uncle was already in a chair facing the television.  It was strange to think that the very room had once been home to movie nights with popcorn and soda and ice cream sundaes.  Now it was just where Uncle Tom drank and Stiles avoided.  "Uncle Tom?  Did you..would you like me to make you something for dinner?"  Stiles asked as politely as he could.

     "I told you to stop calling me that."  Stiles flinched slightly at the volume his uncle's voice had already reached.  Great start.  "I don't want a fuck up thinking me as family.  You call me Sir, or Tom.  Any of that "Uncle" shit, and you won't be talking much after.  You hear me?"  Stiles quickly nodded his head.  He waited a few minutes but the man just continued to nurse his drink, if a bit quickly.  So Stiles quietly left the room to get settled upstairs.  He dragged the suitcases the first few stairs to the platform that turned the direction of the staircase.  After the second, more lengthy flight, he reached the top.  It would have been easier to carry all the bags if his uncle helped, but asking was completely out of the question.  He got passed the upstairs bathroom and opened the first door on the right.  It was still decorated the way it was when Stiles was a kid.  Dinosaur wallpaper and shelves for a few model dragons.  He had a thing for them as a kid.  Now the shelves held nothing but a layer of dust.  Even the wallpaper was peeling a little bit at the edges.  Instead of a normal closet door, he had two large sliding mirrors that amplified the small room's feel.   He kicked off his shoes by the door and let his feet feel the familiar ugly blue carpeting.  The entire room was blue, actually.  light blue walls, blue pillows, and blue bedspread on the small twin sized mattress, so the dark blue carpet was just the cherry on top of the blue sundae.  Though the rest of the house had regular, cream carpet, his was the only room that had been chosen for such an...interesting choice.  Stiles unpacked all of his bags and made sure the room was spotless.  He picked up a few pieces of clothes which fell out of his suitcases when he unpacked, and put them in their proper places.  He dusted off the shelves as best as he could, and he even placed his shoes in a nicer fashion near the door.  All in all, it took close to an hour and Stiles was impressed with his stalling abilities.  He wanted nothing more than to lay down on the bed and ignore the memory of him first cowering on it after he broke the glass, but he had something else he had to do first.  AlI of the stalling in the world wouldn't stop him from needed to do this.  f he wanted to be able to go to the pack meeting the next night, he would have to ask as soon as possible.  His uncle didn't like Stiles springing surprises on him.  He shook out his buzzing hands before he turned and left the room.  A few feet down the hall was the door to his uncle's room, and Stiles willed himself to not look too long.  Further down the hallway was a small laundry closet and another guest bedroom.  Turning back towards the stairs, Stiles quietly made his way back to the living room.  His uncle was on what looked like his second drink (maybe more since Stiles didn't know how long he had been drinking before he showed up).  Stiles stood at the edge of the room, hands behind his back.  

     "Sir?  I was planning on hanging out with some friends tomorrow night, and wanted to make sure it was okay with you before I did."  Stiles felt his voice down, but polite.  His uncle looked up at him for a moment before he took another slow drink, eyes not leaving Stiles.  They narrowed slightly as he leaned forward in his chair.

     "And what will you and your friends be doing?"  He asked but it came out like an accusation.

     "We were planning on renting a movie and getting some pizzas..Sir."  Stiles added the title at the end, just for good measure.  He didn't like that his uncle was already drinking and this irritated with Stiles.  It didn't end well when he was already like this. 

     "You know I don't like you out on the weekends, Boy."  His uncle narrowed his eyes.  Stiles gulped and tried to stay calm.  He couldn't _not_ go to the meeting, but he was just asking for a fight with his uncle by pressing this.  He had no choice.

     "I know Sir, but I promise I won't be out late.  It's just something we do every Saturday.  It's not a big deal."  He felt his mistake when he said the last part.  He knew he messed even more when he saw the look on his uncle's face.  His narrow eyes hardened and set his drink on the end table next to him. 

     "Oh I'm sorry, was I being a little to overbearing for you?" His uncle's voice was calm but Stiles knew better. "Was me asking you to stay in on weekends too much to ask?  Was that too difficult of a concept for you to grasp?  I thought you were smart?"  His uncle stood up from his chair.  Stiles took an instinctive step back.  "Answer me!"  His uncle barked.  

     "No, Sir."  He responded quickly.

     "No, to what?  No, you aren't smart? Or no, it wasn't a difficult concept?"  His uncle sneered at him, and grabbed his drink off the table.  He gulped the rest down quickly and tossed the glass back onto the chair behind him.  Stiles was just thankful that he didn't throw it at him this time. Stiles tried to come up with a response, but nothing he came up with was something he thought his uncle would accept.  He opened his mouth to form words but he just sputtered, instead.  "See?  You can't even fucking _talk_.  Jesus Christ." 

     "Uncle Tom, I'm sorr–"

      _"I said not to call me that!"_ His uncle roared.  Stiles put his hands up out of habit. "Oh, you think I'm going to hit you?  Is that it?"  His uncle was smirking across from him now.  He took a few steps closer which only made Stiles take another back.  "Oh, and _now_ you think you can _run_."  He laughed darkly and Stiles felt himself begin to shake.  His uncle had never been this upset this early in a visit.  This wasn't good.  He should have known not to call him "Uncle Tom" but it just slipped out in fear. "Get over here."  His uncle said through clenched teeth.  Stiles didn't move.  He couldn't take a step back; his uncle would just make the beating worse.  He couldn't just walk right into the beating, either.  He was too petrified to move.  "Do I need to repeat myself?"  His uncle's face began to turn a little red with anger.  He started to close the distance towards Stiles, when a knock came at the door.  His uncle's eyes darted to the front of the house, and back to Stiles.  The two just stared at each other for a few seconds before another knock came at the door.  His uncle stepped back and scoffed at Stiles. "Go answer the door, boy.  We will finish this after."  He returned to his chair.  

     Stiles was both thankful that the person who knocked interrupted the moment, and scared because it might have made it worse.  Quickly walking to the door, he opened it.  Standing outside was Derek.  He was just standing on the front stoop, leather jacket and blank expression on.  Stiles willed himself not to fling himself at his alpha, thanking him for interrupting.  Derek's eyes drifted to Stiles' chest.  Shit.  His heart was still pounding out of control from the confrontation he just went through.  He tried to put on a smile for Derek, but probably failed.

     "Hey, uh, Sourwolf."  Derek nodded. "I uh, I didn't think you were coming over."  Stiles clearly remembered telling Derek not to.  Derek looked back at him. 

     "I texted you."  Stiles then remembered the message he received right when he arrived.  He pulled out his phone and sure enough, it was a text from Derek.

     " _I'll be over soon."_

     "Oh.  Yeah.  Looks like you did."  Stiles stared down at the screen longer than necessary.  Derek shifted uncomfortably in front of him.

     "I just thought you would like some company and we did say we would like to hang out again..."  Stiles looked up but it was Derek's turn to be looking away.  Stiles swore he saw some blush in his cheeks. "I can go if you wan–"

     "Who is it?"  A voice came from behind Stiles. Derek's gazed fixed behind Stiles, and the boy tensed internally.  He turned to see his uncle a few feet behind him, arms crossed.  He didn't look violent, but he didn't look welcoming either. 

     "My friend, Derek.  Uncle To–uh, Tom, Derek.  Derek, Tom."  Stiles gestured between the two.  Derek smiled politely and offered a greeting while Uncle Tom just nodded slightly. "He just wanted to come by and see if Saturday was going to work out."  Stiles was grasping, but he hoped Derek would pick up on the lie.  Derek's expression didn't change, but he did nod. Stiles sighed slightly.  

     "That so?" Uncle Tom asked.  Derek continued to nod, and answered the man.

     "Yes, Sir.  Our group of friends have a movie night with pizza every Saturday.  We wanted to make sure it was okay with you, of course, for Stiles to join."  Stiles was thankful the pack had gone over the group excuse for pack meetings before.  This was the exact reason to have everyone know the same story for "Saturday night plans" if parents got involved.  Stiles was only slightly surprised Derek was able to add in the second part.  It was very similar to what Stiles had said himself, and he was thankful Derek was just polite enough to ask his uncle's permission.  There were a few beats of silence before his uncle spoke up.  His voice was tense and clipped; a forced politeness.  If Stiles heard it, Derek certainly did.  He hoped Derek just took the man for strict, and nothing more.  

     "You won't be out late."  It wasn't a question.  Derek and Stiles both shook their heads and Uncle Tom let out a long sigh.  "Fine.  But home by 10:00."  With that, he turned back into the house.  Stiles relaxed and turned back to Derek.

     "Look, thank you for coming, but really, I don't think it would be good if you came back.  He's kinda..strict and I don't want him to stop me from coming to pack meetings."  Stiles didn't mention how he also didn't want to get more bruises for having uninvited guests over.  

     "Like I said, I just thought you would like the company."  Derek sounded a little put off now.

     "I did.  I do.  I'm really happy you care enough to come over, man.  I really am.  But maybe another time, okay?"  Stiles hated that he couldn't spend more time with Derek that night, but standing there was only going to make that night worse after Derek left.  Derek looked like he felt better about the situation, and nodded.  He told Stiles to tell him when he was going to bed, and they said their goodbyes.  Stiles watched Derek get into his car and drive all the way out of sight before he went back inside.  He wanted to stall as long as possible.  But he forced himself back into the house.  He did, however, go upstairs as opposed to back into the living room. He quickly headed for his bedroom.  His heart was already speeding up by the time he reached the door.  He let himself into the room and let out a breath of relief as he shut the door.  It didn't have a lock since years before when Uncle Tom got tired of having to kick the door open whenever Stiles tried stopping him from getting in. He sprawled onto the small bed, trying to slow his heart down.  The minutes ticked by and his uncle still hadn't come upstairs yet.  Maybe it would be okay.  He did allow Stiles to go tomorrow night, so maybe there wouldn't be an issue.  After a whole forty-five minutes passed, Stiles changed into his pajamas.  He didn't feel like he was up for showering, so he just slipped on his sweats and a white undershirt before laying back down onto the bed.  He thanked himself for getting all his homework done in between classes that school day.  

     His mind drifted towards the other members of the pack.  He wondered what each was doing that same night, while he was hiding in this room. Scott was probably just finishing dinner with Allison and headed out to the look out or his own house for more kissing and touching and bleh.  Lydia and Jackson were most likely having makeup sex or something that Stiles tried not to focus on.  He may have gotten over his lifetime crush of the girl, but it didn't mean he wanted to visualize her with Jackson.  He may be pack, but he was still a douche.  Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were, if Stiles had to guess, out at the "clubs" in Beacon Hills.  The city didn't have a lot to offer on that front, but Stiles was sure the trio was successful in making the best of a bad party place situation.  They always struck him as the kind of teens to enjoy a night out.  Peter probably was lurking around somewhere, scaring little kids, kicking puppies.  Derek, however, stumped Stiles.  Maybe he was reading.  Or he could be watching another superhero movie in order to better himself conversation wise with Stiles. Or he could be working out.  That was a nice picture.  He probably did 200 sit ups and then 400 push ups.  Oh and he probably did it shirtless.  God, Stiles would love to see the way his toned chest glistened with the light layer of sweat– _he seriously needed to stop thinking like this._  Stiles groaned and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.  

     Just because he couldn't think about Derek, didn't mean he couldn't  _text_ him.  Grinning at his logic, Stiles took his phone out and placed the charger into the wall after he plugged it into the device.  He scrolled through the contacts and clicked on "Sourwolf"

     " _What do you do on a Friday night?"_ Stiles was completely curious.  He wanted to know what Derek did for fun.  Plus, he actually wouldn't mind finding out Derek actually did work out in the way he fantasized–imagined.  Not fantasized.  Imagined.  He didn't have to wait long for a response.

     " _I am reading right now."_ So Stiles was right.  Maybe he was right about the work out as well. 

     " _I'm surprised you aren't working out.  I figured you gotta do that every couple hours to keep up your -50% body fat."_ Stiles hoped that his text hid his interest enough.  God, he was feeling so stupid.  But he couldn't get the thought of Derek out of his head.  Stiles didn't even  _like_ to work out, and he was considering taking it up if it meant he could do it with Derek.  If it meant he could  _watch_ Derek.  

     " _No, not every couple of hours.  I will tomorrow morning, though."_ The text was innocent, and yet it sent shivers down to a very inappropriate spot in between Stiles' legs.  Stiles put a hand over his face at his own idiocy.  He had to admit it.  There was no way around this now.  He had a crush.  He had a crush on Derek Hale.  Derek, _alpha,_ Hale.  There.  He said (thought) it.  Maybe this would make it easier.  Maybe now he could stop lying to himself and just let the thing ride out and fizzle down.  Because it would.  The crush would end.  And he would stop thinking of Derek this way.  He would stop seeing how good he was.  How strong.  Brave.  Selfless.  Comforting. Hot.  _Oh for fuck's sake._

     " _That sounds awful.  Don't do that to yourself."_ Please, please continue doing that to yourself. " _Shouldn't you be going to bed?"_ Stiles was starting to feel a bit sleepy himself.  He yawned and adjusted himself better on the bed so he could be more comfortable.  He started to drift off when his door banged open, startling Stiles to a sitting position.  His uncle was standing in the doorway, swaying actually.  His eyes were hazy and his hands were shaking in the fists they made.  Stiles heart rate shot up.  He should have known better to think that his uncle would leave him alone after Derek stopped by.

     "So do you want to tell me why you had your  _friend_ come over and ambush me like that?"  He snarled, stepping into the room. Stiles pushed himself up against the headboard, trying to get more room between them.

     "I didn't tell him to come over, Sir, I promise.  I promise!"  Stiles was shaking, himself, now.  He was having trouble hearing anything but the pounding of his own heart.  His uncle just stepped into the room further, only a few feet from Stiles quaking form.

     "Shut the fuck up, for  _once!_ Get over here!" He grabbed for Stiles, but the boy threw himself off the other side of the bed and tried to get away.  His uncle was over by him in an instant, though, and grabbed Stiles angrily by both wrists and tugged him upwards.  Stiles yelped in surprise, and the man just pulled him towards the doorway.  Stiles struggled against the grip that was already starting to hurt.  

     "Please! Please stop!" Stiles begged.  "I swear I didn't tell him to come over!"  The words fell on deaf ears, though, and soon they were leaving his room and heading across the hallway towards his uncle's room.  Memories of being beaten and kicked in that room were flashing through Stiles eyes, and the boy started to become hysterical.  He thrashed and shoved against his uncle, but the older man was stronger than he was. Before Stiles knew it, he was in his uncle's room and the door was slamming behind them.  His uncle quickly threw him to the ground and Stiles started to crawl away.  He didn't get far before the first kick came to his side.  It was strong enough to knock the wind out of him, and he groaned in pain.  

     "You never shut _up!"_ His uncle snarled as he kicked again.  Stiles tried to get away from the kicks, but eventually he just tucked in on himself, trying to shield himself from the worst of them.  When his uncle grew tired of trying to get to his stomach, the man took to just stomping onto Stiles' limbs and back.  The man had started to wear thick work boots around the house years ago.  He said they were good for making a point.  And a point, they made.  Stiles whimpered as each stomp onto his sprawled out legs threatened to break the bone beneath the injury.  After what seemed like an eternity, the kicking stopped, and Stiles gasped loudly for air.  He didn't have long before he was hauled to his feet and a strong hand wrapped around his neck, choking off what little air he had been getting.  His eyes focused on the face of his uncle.  The man's expression was twisted in a drunken rage, and Stiles struggled weakly against the hold.   "Next time, I won't stop."  His uncle growled, and tossed Stiles backwards.  He fell towards the ground, but his head was too close to the bedside table, and it hit with a sharp  _crack_ that filled the room.  He stayed on the ground and watched his uncle's feet leave the room.  When the door was shut behind him, Stiles finally let himself cry.  He just laid on the carpet, soaking the fabric beneath his face with tears.  When the sobs and his aching ribs made it too difficult to breathe, Stiles forced himself to stay still.  He practiced his breathing until he could manage to think again.  After, he just let himself stay down.  Everything hurt.  His legs were screaming from the stomping his uncle had done on them, and he was positive his chest and stomach were going to be littered with new dark purple and black bruises by tomorrow.  He gingerly lifted a hand to the back of his head and pulled it back out in front of him.  It came back with a little splotch of red on the fingers.  Blood.  Groaning, he gently pushed himself into a kneeling position.  He tired to stand, but it was too difficult, so he just crawled slowly to the door.  Every inch was done with a protesting body.  Every part of him wanted to just lay down and go to sleep and never wake up.  But if he didn't go back to his own room, his uncle would come back and be even more angry. It had happened before. 

     It took minutes for Stiles to make the trip which would have otherwise taken him ten seconds.  Pushing his bedroom door closed gently, he continued to crawl towards his bed. He tried and failed to contain the small noises of pain as he made his way onto the bed.  The tears started to overflow again, and he started to feel his pulse under each new mark.  His entire body was throbbing and his head was killing him.  He reached into one of his pillow cases and took out the bottle of pain medicine he hid there months ago and took a few pills out in order to swallow them dry.  It was almost empty and was over the counter stuff, so it wasn't very strong, but he would take what he could get.   He wasn't concussed.  He knew what that felt like.  But it was still a nasty bump on his head.  He made sure he laid down on his stomach as to not get any blood on the pillows or sheets.  When all was said and done, he was exhausted.  He could barely move, and he just wanted to pass out.  Blinking his eyes slowly, he saw his phone still on the bed from earlier.  He reached an unsteady arm out and grabbed the device.  Squinting at the brightness of the screen, he looked at the message Derek had sent just before his uncle walked in.  It was sent over half an hour ago.  

     " _I will soon. I'm a little surprised that you aren't tired, as well._ _"_ Stiles, despite the pain, found himself with a small smile on his face.  It took longer than he wanted, but he finally managed to send off a reply.  He sent it with a groan escaping his lips and finally passing out.   _  
_

     " _Looks like you were right about me being tired.  I must have fallen asleep.  Goodnight, Sourwolf."_

     Stiles didn't dream that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it really begins.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the day without an update. Hopefully this makes up for it. :]

     Thank God it was Saturday.  Saturday meant no school.  No school meant staying in bed.  Staying in bed meant not moving.  Not moving meant not feeling the pain of his body.  As much.   

     Stiles stopped himself from turning over onto his side, though it was his preferred sleeping position.  His body protested too much if he tried.  When he slowly opened his sleep crusted eyes, he was in the very same position he was in when he fell asleep the night before.  His phone was still on his stomach from when he texted Derek back.  He made no move to check for more messages.  Stiles knew he would have to get up eventually; he wasn't lying to himself about that.  But he didn't want to lose what minor comfort he had in that moment.  So he just stayed there.  

     His uncle had never beat him that hard on the first night.  He usually waited until there were only a night or two more before Stiles returned home.  If this was how he was going to start the visit, Stiles didn't want to find out how far the man intended on going.  Stiles didn't even know  _why_ his uncle did this.  Yes, he knows why his uncle beat him last night; Derek came over and made it look like Stiles was trying to double team his uncle into letting Stiles go out with his friends.  But he didn't know what changed the kind man he knew as a child into the monster he was staying with now.  It started as soon as his mother got sick, Stiles knew that, but he didn't know why Uncle Tom felt like he needed to take it out on Stiles.  Rationally, Stiles knew he was just a kid.  He had no defenses against the man.  Seeking out such a small target could not have been out of need.  His uncle couldn't have felt cornered or threatened by the boy.  Stiles gave up trying to find out why his uncle liked to kick the shit out of him long ago.  Now he just resigned to taking the hits as best as he could.  He could do that.  

     Ultimately, Stiles still had the mindset saying he deserved what he got.  "Ultimately" because yeah, Stiles wasn't dumb and knew what other's would say about the whole situation: it isn't your fault, he is insane, you did nothing wrong, you're a victim, blah blah blah.  But more than the reasoning for that argument, he gave up and accepted that his uncle's words and actions have finally taken root.  Now he just...believed the man.  He believed his mother wasn't strong enough to live because he had caused her too much stress.  His father drank sometimes (and always) because of Stiles messing up his life.  His uncle didn't know about werewolves, but Stiles thought about how Scott was bitten because of his need to drag the other boy out into the woods during a police search.  Everything that had ever happened to the pack, all started because of him.   

     Stiles drew in a shaky breath thanks to his aching ribs and tried to calm himself down from the panic he had begun to feel.  He focused on slow, steady (well as steady as he could manage) breaths. After he felt the majority of the panic subside, he tested his body.  Gently, he lifted each arm.   They were mercifully alright.  A little sore from stray kicks his uncle had given them, but for the most part they were uninjured.  Next, were his legs.  Lifting one at a time, he realized how badly his uncle had trampled on them.  He must have really brought his leg down with all of his weight whenever he stomped onto Stiles' thighs.  He couldn't lift them very far off the bed before the pain was too much.  He dropped each back down to the bed far too quickly for his liking.  His moving seemed to be very limited and he hated that.  How was he going to get around with his upper legs hurting that badly?  Moving onto his abdomen, Stiles decided to just run a tentative hand over the surface, feeling for tenderness.  He wouldn't irritate the bruises more than he needed to.  Lightly brushing his palm over his stomach, he could feel the muscles beneath the surface flare up in warning.  His stomach turned angrily and Stiles stopped his prodding in fear of throwing up.  After the spell faded, he moved to his chest where the kicks were less frequent, though still brutal.  The hits landed to that area meant it hurt to breathe...which was kind of important.  If his body throbbing after such a gentle examination, Stiles was nervous for the rest of the day.  Oh God, and the pack meeting.  

     He needed to figure out how he was going to get through the meetings without causing anyone alarm.  Stiles knew he had a routine from other times when he needed to go to a meeting after a bad night.  First step was to find out how much time had.  Grabbing his phone, he looked at the time: 11:17.  Okay, he had plenty of time.  The meeting didn't start until 7:00.  If he started right that instant, he should be able to pretend like he was fine.  It wasn't going to be fun, but he could do this.  Groaning quietly, Stiles forced himself to sit up.  He swallowed any whimpers that wanted to come out of his mouth; practice makes perfect.  Blinking away the little white stars he began to see when he turned to get off the bed, he shook his head lightly trying to wake up better.  He stood up and gingerly headed to the bathroom.  His head was still throbbing in the back where he hit the nightstand.  Nothing a handful of aspirin wouldn't take care of.  Okay, maybe two handfuls.  Hopefully.

     Stiles' body instinctively wanted to avoid the irritating spray of the water on his sore body, but he forced himself to stay under the spray.  Though the hot water hurt, it would loosen his tight muscles.  After he could stand no more, he shut the water off and pushed aside the black shower curtain.  Drying off gently, more or less just patting his body to soak up any water, Stiles turned on the bathroom vent in order to rid the room of some of the steam the shower's heat had created.  Pausing for a minute, bracing himself, Stiles wiped off the mirror to assess the damage.   He almost wished he hadn't.  His chest and stomach weren't exactly covered in bruises as they _were_ a bruise themselves.  Stiles could barely distinguish between the angry looking purple welts on his torso.  He could barely look at his stomach, it was so damaged. His thighs were mostly clear on the front since he had tried laying on his stomach to protect himself the best he could.  The sides and back, however, held very large, vaguely boot shaped bruises.  On one, he could actually make out the texture of his uncle's boots.  This was going to suck.  If Stiles could help it, he never did this step in the recovery.  It hurt more and was really only needed when it was really bad.  But this _was_ really bad.  If he could do this, the bruises would heal much quicker. 

     Grabbing the bathroom bag he had brought in with him, he took out the extra toothbrush and vinegar he brought.  He slowly and mechanically unscrewed the vinegar's lid.  Dipping the brush into the solution, he pulled it out and didn't bother shaking out the extra liquid.  Placing it to a bruise on his chest, he took a breath before he began to scrub.  

     The bristles scratched the skin, making the injuries hurt even more, and the vinegar soaking into the lesions stung like a bitch.  But he found that it relieved the coloring much quicker than if he left it to heal on its' own.  Too soon, the brush needed another coating of vinegar and Stiles had to replenish the amount on the bristles.  Biting his lip through the entire process, eventually he could put away the materials and head back to his room.  The worst was his stomach, and though he wanted to be as gentle there as he could, he knew he had to press harder in that area.  If the bruises were bad there, he needed to make sure it got the best treatment.  Despite his best effort, Stiles couldn't help the pained noises that escaped his body.  His legs were not nearly as bad as his torso, but they still hurt.  Compared to the other marks, the pain in his legs would be like the ache you get after running for the first time in months.  It made him walk with a severe limp if he didn't will himself not to, but it was manageable.  Practicing his "normal walk" back to his room, Stiles checked the time on his phone.  Almost two hours had passed.  Cleaning himself up like he just did took a long time since 1) it hurt like a motherfucker and 2) he needed to be as thorough as possible. An added bonus of taking his time, Stiles thought, was that all the vinegar would mask some of the discomfort any werewolf would smell.  Seeing as it was almost 1:30, Stiles noticed how he didn't send Derek a morning text.  Not that it was a "morning text".  It wasn't.  It was Stiles following orders of his alpha.  Made perfect sense.

     " _Good afternoon, your favorite pack member is happily enjoying their Saturday."_ Stiles didn't try to hide his smile when he texted Derek.  No one was around to see, so no harm done.

     " _Tell Boyd I'm happy for him._ _"_ Stiles openly gawked at the text.  That was the sassiest Derek had ever been.  Stiles could squeal with excitement if the act didn't hurt his ribs.  He sent his reply right away.

     " _I'm impressed.  Slightly offended, but impressed."_ It was funny how texting Derek had already made him feel less like shit.It was painfully obvious how much Derek took his mind off the injuries when Stiles decided to get dressed for the day.  He avoided looking in the full length mirrors in the room while he stood bare chested.  Digging through the drawers, he fished out a batman logo shirt and slid it on himself inch by inch, practicing the movement.  He would have to get use to dressing his aching body if he was going to be here for three weeks.  The shirt was on, finally, and Stiles didn't even have to stop midway through.  He was making much better progress than he expected.  After pulling on some jeans (shorts weren't an option since some of the kicks stomps left a couple bruises on his calfs), and slipping on his white sneakers, Stiles quietly let himself into the hallway.  Padding to his uncle's room as silently as he could manage, he pressed an ear to the door.  He heard a soft snoring coming from the other side, and Stiles breathed a sigh in relief.  

     He discovered years ago that if his uncle ever slept past 12:00, he wouldn't be up and about the house until well into the late afternoon.  Countless visits of Uncle Tom drinking heavily had confirmed such.  The man would be too hungover to leave his room, let alone care if Stiles left.  Regardless, when stiles made his way down to the kitchen, he left a note reminding the man about "movie night" and how he technically agreed to it.  He knew he would normally be hungry, but his stomach was still throbbing too much for food to sound appealing.  He left the house and quickly made his way to his jeep, turning the keys over in his hand as he made the journey.  When he was safely in the vehicle, he released a breath he didn't know he was holding.  He was just happy to get out of that damn house.  Problem was, he didn't know where he was headed.  There was no way he could go to the loft since the meeting wasn't for hours.  Even  _if_ he and Derek had been getting along and hanging out, it would be a little strange.  Deciding to pick a place while driving, Stiles put the key in the ignition and turned.   _  
_

Nothing.

     He turned it again.

     Still nothing. Stiles sighed and rested his head on the steering wheel.

     "Come on, Baby.  You can do this.  You can do this."  With another turn, the engine (pitifully) grumbled to life.  Stiles refused to shout in happiness because of his chest, but he may or may not have given the steering wheel a slight kiss.  Driving away from the hell hole he was staying in, Stiles let himself relax.  It was pleasantly warm out, and he was glad he wore a t-shirt.  The wind felt great on his arms, and the coolness was a welcome relief on his sore chest even through the fabric.  He found himself humming after a solid twenty minutes of driving aimlessly around town.  He tapped his hands against on the steering wheel to the beat.  Well, there really wasn't a beat to the nonsense song he was humming, but it felt right to do it anyway.  He would do this all day, if he could.  The only thing to make it better would be if Derek was with him.  He would love to see if Derek liked having the wind gently move his shirt, like Stiles did.  He wanted to see if Derek enjoyed humming nonsense songs like Stiles did.  He wanted to see if Derek rested his arm out the window, gently moving his fingers through the wind so they could feel the sensation better like Stiles did.  

     He wanted to see Derek. 

     Just because it was too early for him to go over to the loft, it didn't mean he couldn't meet him for food.  When his stomach turned over with an aching pull for thinking about eating, he decided against it.  But maybe coffee.  Coffee wouldn't hurt, probably.  His stomach didn't seem to think it was a bad idea, since it didn't threaten him with painful reminders of last night. So, pulling over onto the side of the road (Stiles wasn't exactly where he was but it was definitely in the backroads by the reserve.) and texted Derek.

     " _Are you in the mood for coffee?"_  Stiles didn't add any sass or sarcasm, which was strange, but hopefully okay. _  
_

" _Why?"_ That was the entire text.   _  
_

" _Because I am in the mood for coffee and wanted to see if you were as well.  I thought we could get some."_ Stiles was stared at the screen for minutes.  Actual minutes, and not just metaphorical minutes.  He was midway through a message telling Derek to forget about it, when the werewolf finally responded after five _literal_ minutes.

     " _Okay.  Where should I meet you?"_ Stiles openly smiled at the screen and swore he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks in a blush.  

     " _I was thinking the place near the auto shop?  I saw it last time I got my car fixed and haven't been in there yet."_ Derek responded quickly this time. _  
_

 _"Alright.  I'll meet you there in twenty minutes."_ Stiles wasted no time in driving to the place.  He may or may not have even sped a little bit.  He was worried about not getting there in time since he was pretty far away, but he ended up getting there five minutes early.  Maybe he was speeding more than he thought. He parked near the entrance of the building.  Before getting out, he reached into the glove compartment and took out another bottle of pain medicine he stashed there. Taking three for good measure, he got out of the jeep and headed towards the door.  A bonus of the coffee place was that the strong smell of all the drinks might help hide the scent of pain probably on him.  Opening the front door, he laughed slightly at the establishment's name printed on the glass.  "Baked and Sconed" was a lot nicer than he expected.  The place had a decent amount of seating and was painted a lot nice neutral browns that a lot of coffee places were.  Hopefully the coffee was as good as the aesthetics were.  He went up the counter and ordered the largest coffee he could find plus an extra shot of expresso. He barely sat down at a table in the back near the windows when he heard the front door ding.  Glancing up from his drink he saw Derek looking around for Stiles.  He hadn't spotted him yet and Stiles took the chance to take in his appearance.  He wasn't all too surprised by the lack of color: black jeans, dark grey v-neck, black shoes.  Stiles wasn't exactly  _complaining_ though since every single pair of Derek's jeans seemed to be made specifically for his ass. His gaze went to the alpha's profile and noticed the light stubble he had going on that day.  Stiles thought he looked better with it than shaved.  He wondered if it felt prickly.  Was it an issue when people kissed Derek?  Rug burn and all that. 

     Derek's nostrils flared slightly and thankfully Stiles' eyes were on his face and not his ass, because the werewolf's head suddenly turned straight in his direction.  Looks like Derek didn't have to worry about the coffee smell getting in the way of Stiles' scent.  Derek, now seeing his pack member, gave a small nod before turning to the counter.  Stiles drank a few more sips of his own cup before Derek sat down across from him, drink in hand.  

     "What did you get?"  Stiles asked.

     "Chai latte."  Derek offered innocently.  Stiles would have made fun of the man for not drinking anything but plain coffee, but he thought better of it.  Stiles just hummed in acknowledgment.  The two sat in quiet for a bit but then Derek was the one to break it, surprisingly.

     "I'm...sorry if your uncle got upset with you after I came over."  Derek's eyes were on his drink.  Stiles heart ached for the man in front of him.

     "No worries, man."  Stiles tried to sound as convincing as he could. "He's just...a little strict is all.  And besides, we can hang out now, so it's no biggie."  Stiles smiled, though Derek still wasn't looking at him.  "Sourwolf."  Derek still didn't look up. "Derek, seriously."  This time Derek looked at Stiles. "It was no biggie.  I was ticked we couldn't hang out last night, too."  The man seemed to relax a little and Stiles offered another smile.  Derek didn't quite return it, but the corners of his mouth did turn upwards slightly. 

     The tension was broken after that, and the two chatted quietly in the building.  The coffee, Stiles decided, was in fact good.  Maybe he would have to come back again.  They talked about a lot of things.  Stiles mostly filled the quiet, but Derek did offer his opinion on certain things.  It was surprising how the entire time they were there, Stiles never made a sarcastic remark at the alpha's expense, and Derek never threatened the teenager.  They decided (Stiles decided) they would have to watch "The Sixth Sense" next because Derek hadn't seen it.  Derek hadn't seen a  _lot_ of movies, actually.  After a thorough investigation on what Derek had and had not watched, Stiles swore he would eliminate the list entirely.  Derek actually chuckled at that, and Stiles willed his blush to leave.  The topics were all light, and easy.  The conversation never felt forced and Stiles didn't even feel any of the ache and pains he was consumed with only that morning.  Before he knew it, Stiles had boughten his second cup of coffee and was sitting down with his new caffeine source. Derek cocked an eyebrow at Stiles, who just hummed happily into the drink.

     "I'm not sure all that caffeine is good for you." Derek mused. 

     "It isn't, actually."  Stiles remarked, not even caring.  He took another large sip and enjoyed the warmth it brought his throat.  The heat was actually soothing when it reached his stomach.  It made any throbbing lessen and the boy relaxed into his seat further.

     "Laura used to live off caffeine, too."  Derek said quietly.  Stiles wasn't actually sure he heard correctly because his voice was so low.  Looking at Derek's eyes, Stiles knew he had heard what he thought.  The man's eyes were far away, thinking or remembering something.  He had a small smile on his face and Stiles couldn't help but be intoxicated by Derek's appearance.  He looked so serene, tucked away in this thoughts for those few moments. But too quickly, Derek came back to the present and Stiles realized he hadn't responded yet. 

     "Then she was a brilliant woman, because this is clearly the correct way to live.  Caffeine overload whenever possible."  Stiles beamed at Derek, and the werewolf rolled his eyes.  Stiles felt open after Derek's sharing.  Not bad, just...open.  Like some door had  finally unlocked and he was able to verbalize anything previously unattainable.  "My mom hated my father's coffee habit." Derek's eyes were instantly focused on Stiles, though he felt his own drift towards his hands holding the drink.  "She claimed it would eat away at his teeth and gave him bad breath."  Stiles grinned at the memory of his mother scolding her husband at the breakfast table. "He would of course ask her for a kiss.  She'd refuse and my dad would chase her around the kitchen trying to get a peck.  Eventually she'd let him catch her and she would kiss him, coffee breath and all.  She'd probably smack me upside the head for following in his footsteps.  I kind of wish she was here so she _could_."  Stiles laughed slightly at his final remark.  He hadn't realized his eyes were getting watery until he had to blink rapidly to disperse the liquid from his vision.  He chuckled, and looked at Derek a little flustered.  The man's expression was soft.  Softer than Stiles had expected.  Before knowing what was happening, Derek's hand was covering Stiles' own. He looked at the contact, and back at Derek.  A somber smile broke out on his lips.  Derek smiled lightly back.

     "You know..." Derek began.  " _I_ could..always smack you upside the head if you wanted."  

     Maybe it was the statement itself, or perhaps all the coffee making him excitable, but Stiles burst out laughing.  He was crying, now from the humor, and every time he got a look at Derek's amused face, he just laughed harder.  It got so bad that the other people in the place began to look at Stiles like he was a mad man.  Maybe he was.  Eventually he calmed himself down before he really started to irritate his now very sore stomach.  Wiping the tears from his eyes, he let out a long breath.

     "Oh my God.  Thank you for that."  Derek nodded, now with an actual smile on his face. 

     Derek looked at his phone and back at Stiles.

     "We have just over an hour before the pack meeting.  Do you want to come over and hang out before?"  Derek seemed a little shy, and Stiles thought it was...thought it was actually pretty damn adorable.  He hadn't even noticed how long they had been there.  Stiles had been driving a while before texting Derek and they got to the coffee place around 2:30.  Now it was a little before 6:00, but Stiles found it difficult to care.  He was having a lot of fun.  He agreed and the two left for their respective vehicles.  Derek waited for Stiles to exit the parking lot before pulling out after him.  Stiles supposed Derek would want to keep an eye on his pack member.  Alpha-protectiveness and all that.  Stiles willed himself not to crash or make a fool of himself while Derek was paying attention and somehow managed.  Soon enough, they were arriving at Derek's loft and parking their cars.  Stiles eased himself out of the driver's seat as gently as he could manage and made his way to where Derek was exiting his camaro.

     "What's the plan, Mr. Alpha?"  Stiles saluted at the man, who just looked unimpressed.  That shouldn't be a good look on him, but it was.

     "Well I thought we could eat what little left overs we still have from the other night, and then could watch TV or something."  Derek shrugged.  Stiles agreed easily enough and the two headed up to the loft.  Derek slid the large metal door open and the two stepped into the large room.  This time it was Stiles at the kitchen counter and Derek who was messing around with the food.  Stiles still didn't want to eat yet but he would force a couple bites for Derek. There was only enough for a small plate of the pasta, but if Derek didn't mind sharing, then neither did Stiles.  After the microwave beeped in completion, Derek set the food in front of stiles and took a seat on the barstool next to him. Derek gave him a fork and used his own to take a bite.  It must still taste alright, if Derek's slight noise of appreciation was anything to go by.  Stiles tried not to blush.  Stiles was about to take a small bite for himself (very very small because his stomach certainly didn't want food yet) when a voice echoed through the room. 

     "Am I interrupting something?"  Stiles knew that voice.  It was too smooth and too cryptic in nature not to remember.  Stiles turned his body as far as it comfortably would turn, and saw Peter leaning against the far wall and eyeing the two of them.  Derek's calm demeanor had vanished and he was now tense. He heard a small rumble come from the man next to him.  Derek was growling already, so that wasn't a good sign.

     "Shut up, Peter." Derek clipped.  Peter did so, but simply stalked over to where they were sitting, and leaned on the counter next to Stiles.  

     "I  _do_ hope I didn't interrupt something."  He gave Stiles a once over, and let his eyes settle on the fork in Stiles' hand.  "But I didn't get to try the pasta you made, Stiles, and I couldn't help but smell it from upstairs.  You won't mind, right?"  He took the fork out of Stiles hand before getting a response and took a portion of the pasta onto it before slipping it into his mouth.  Derek's growling got louder.

     "That isn't for you."  Derek growled. Peter didn't even respond with a remark.  Instead, he just took another bite of the pasta.  Derek's growl escaped his lips and grabbed the plate from in front of Stiles.  Pulling it closer, Derek's eyes flashed red.  "I said, this isn't for you.  This is for me and Stiles."  Stiles realized he was between Peter and Derek who were both very strong, very dangerous, werewolves.  And they were fighting.  Stiles' tried not to show that he was starting to shake slightly.  Peter's eyes seemed to have caught the movement, because of what he said next.

     "Derek, please.  Put the eyes away.  You're scaring your...friend."  Peter put the fork in his mouth again, Stiles supposed he was getting the last of the food off it, and then put it back in front of Stiles.  "I just wanted to try it.  And I did."  And with that, Peter left just as quickly (and creepily) as he arrived.  Stiles looked to where Peter disappeared around the corner, and then back at Derek.  He had stopped growling and his eyes had returned to their normal color.  Even if Stiles was slightly scared at being between the two werewolves not moments before, he was actually comforted at what Derek had done.  It was kind of unnecessary and brash, but Derek was...protecting Stiles and Stiles' things.  Even if his "things" was a leftover plate of pasta.  

     Stiles couldn't help but feel comforted by the act.  Derek was his alpha, yes, but it went far past that.  Stiles was realizing just how good Derek made him feel.  He felt protected, safe, comfortable, at ease,  _listened to_ (Which is hard to do because Stiles is well aware of how much he talks.  People zoned out midway through his rants all the time, but Derek actually paid attention to the whole thing.), and maybe the biggest thing, Derek made Stiles stop feeling all the pain he was in.  He knew he still had the injuries and still felt them, God he felt them,  but it was like all the good Derek was putting in to Stiles counteracted the bad his uncle put there.  All of the great things he felt around Derek just...overshadowed the pain. 

     "Well that was creepy.  As always." Stiles tried to lighten the mood.  Derek just glared to where his uncle had walked away. "Hey, don't worry about it.  I'm not really even in the mood for food."  Stiles shrugged and Derek's eyes fell back to him.  He nodded slightly and got up from his seat.  

     "Well I'll put it back in the fridge until you wanna have the rest, alright?"  Stiles remarked that Derek could totally eat the rest if he wanted, but the man just shook his head. "You might as well enjoy it as well.  I mean, you're the one who made it."  Stiles tried not to focus on the way Derek's mouth quirked up at the corners.  

     "So what are we going to talk about at the meeting tonight?"  Stiles questioned.  There was still a decent amount of time before the meeting, and Stiles wondered what could be on the schedule.

     "I guess you'll just have to wait to find out." Derek mused, putting the forks into the sink.  Stiles rolled his eyes and followed (if a little stiffly) to the living room.  "Do you wanna watch TV or something?" Stiles shrugged and the two sat down on the couch.  Stiles wasn't too excited about the distance between them, but didn't complain.  Derek handing him the control and Stiles turned on the surprisingly large television. He ended up finding old reruns of some awful sitcom, and decided to just let it play in the background. He was actually pretty tired, and the noise was soothing.  He swore he was watching the show, but the next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes from sleeping.  Damn, he was supposed to be spending time with Derek, not napping.  But the show was calming, and the loft was cool with air conditioning, and the couch was sooo comfortable. He was trying to force himself to stay awake when Derek grabbed the remote from next to him and turned off the screen.  "Just go to sleep, Stiles."  

     "M'not sleepy.." Stiles half argued, half yawned.  Derek scoffed.

     "We've got time before any else of the pack shows up."  

     "Won't you be bored w'out me awake?"  Stiles mumbled, eyes already drifting shut.  

     "Don't worry about it.  I'll just read."  Stiles didn't like the smirk Derek was giving him, even if it was void of any animosity.  Actually, it looked fond.  He let his eyes fall shut.

     "Stop your face."  Stiles didn't have to have his eyes open to to know Derek's eyebrows shot up in amusement.  But Stiles couldn't find himself to care that he wasn't making sense.  He was just so comfortable, and after a night of uncomfortable sleep, Stiles was ready to embrace the comforting atmosphere he had with Derek.

     "My face?"  Derek sounded like he was talking through a smile.

     "Yeah.  Your face.  It makes me frustrated."  Luckily, Stiles stopped himself from adding "sexually" before "frustrated".  Derek just chuckled and took the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it somewhat onto Stiles' form.  

     Stiles welcomed the comfort and fell easily to sleep next to the man he was beginning to think was more than a crush.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys had some interesting thoughts for where the fic could go. A few gave me a couple ideas. ;]


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Also, I have started calling the group of Isaac, Erica, and Boyd "the terrible trio". I kinda like it! On a side note, loved the episode tonight!

     Stiles came to by means of soft voices.  At first he was angry that whoever was talking was also waking him up, but then he realized he was resting on something warm and firm and it smelled amazing.  Snuggling in closer, Stiles inhaled more deeply.  It was a strong, woodsy smell.   He wasn't sure where he had smelled it before but it as familiar, and Stiles found himself drifting back to sleep inhaling it.  He was just about to be under, when the voices started again.  They were muffled but Stiles thought they sounded amused.  He chose to bury his face into the warmness next to him and avoid them all together.  When what he was snuggling up to began to rumble a little bit, and a voice came from above him, Stiles quit nuzzling.  

     He was sleeping on a person.  Oh God.  The person was Derek.  

_Stiles had just nuzzled his face against Derek's body._

Slowly and carefully opening his eyes, Scott, Allison, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Lydia, and Jackson all stared back him with varying expressions on their faces.  Most were amused, but Scott looked appalled and Jackson looked annoyed. Erica looked...interested in what was happening on the couch.  Like she wanted to join as well.  Daring a glance upwards, Stiles saw Derek looking back at him with a blank face.  Stiles had somehow managed to end up sleeping against Derek's side, with an arm thrown completely over his stomach, hugging the alpha.  

     "Uh."  Was all Stiles could say.  He could already feel the blush burning in his cheeks and began to untangle himself from Derek which was hard to do once the blanket he was still half covered in got twisted in his limbs.  

     "Looks like we really  _did_ interrupt something."  Stiles shot his eyes towards a now very present Peter, who hadn't been in the room only moments before.  Stiles felt his blush increase and willed himself not to look up at Derek who was not doing anything to help in the situation.  Stupid werewolf. 

     "Shut up, Peter.  I fell asleep.  And Derek is...surprisingly comfortable as a pillow.  Sue me."  Stiles was proud of how strong his voice was. Peter didn't say anything, but he did walk to the other side of Stiles and sit down.  Derek didn't growl but since Stiles wasn't watching him, he didn't notice how Derek narrowed his eyes at his uncle.  Stiles was too busy looking back at the others.  "So...are we just going to stand here, or are we going to have the pack meeting?  No one moved and Scott's mouth was still slightly open.  Stiles sighed and then Lydia, bless her soul, broke the tension.  

     "Either that, or we could actually have a movie night like all of our parents think is happening."  She shrugged an elegant shoulder and everyone seemed to relax at someone finally speaking.  Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and suddenly it was like the whole "Snuggling against Derek" thing didn't happen.  Now that Stiles was firmly in his own spot, not touching (but not too far away from) Derek, the alpha stood up.  

     "Let's begin."  He said.  The others grabbed seats around the room and soon the meeting was underway.

***

     The meeting passed uneventfully.  It turned out to be a run of the mill teenage/werewolf/werewolf hunter/banshee cumulation.  Derek simply asked a progress report on everyone's ability to stay in contact with their assigned pack member.  The terrible trio of Isaac, Erica, and Boyd had no complaints.  Jackson and Lydia were the same.  Peter rolled his eyes at his nephew and muttered about how he didn't appreciate being treated like a pup.  Scott had blushed while saying he and Allison were doing well also.  At the comment, it was Stiles who decided to roll his eyes.  Soon enough, the meeting ended and the group was left with having only been there about fifteen minutes.  

     "Now what?"  Erica asked while inspecting her nails.  Stiles was happy she wasn't inspecting claws instead.  She had done that before, and though she was pack now, it was still intimidating.  Offhandedly, Stiles wondered if she had ever painted them for the fun of it.  

     "You're all dismissed." Derek clipped.  He sat back down on the couch next to Stiles.  At the action, Peter (who was still sitting on the other side of Stiles) swung an arm on the couch behind the boy.  Derek's eyes caught the movement and Stiles thought they turned a little more scarlet than they usually were.  Not a full alpha glare, but it was getting close.  Stiles turned his attention to Peter who wasn't looking at his face.  He was just looking up and down Stiles' form.  It was creepy.  Actually, it was beyond creepy.

     "Oookay...uh. My eyes are up here, dude.  Wow.  There's a sentence I never thought I would say."  When Peter's eyes snapped back to his face, they looked like he just got new information.  Something he previously hadn't known, and was tickled pink about having the info. He looked..smug.  Stiles didn't like it.  Getting up from the couch, he headed to the stand the television was on.  Crouching down, he looked at the few shelves and the contents they stored.  "Anyway, what if we actually  _did_ have a movie night like Lydia said."  Stiles glanced at the strawberry blonde, and she gave an approving smile. 

     "And I know what movie we can watch."  Lydia quipped.  She was smiling slightly and gave Jackson a meaningful look. 

     "We are not. Watching.  The Notebook." He crossed his arms in defiance and Stiles had the feeling this was an argument the couple had had before.   Lydia rolled her eyes and quipped a quick surrender.  The pack took it upon themselves to start bickering about what to watch.  

     "Silence of the Lambs."  Petter quietly suggested.

     "How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days!" Allison quickly countered.  She was bouncing in her seat and gave Scott an imploring look.  He (predictably) nodded along with her suggestion. 

     "Saw!"  Erica added her own pick.

     "Transformers."  Jackson shrugged when he decided to grace everyone with a choice.

     "Silver Linings Playbook." Isaac pleaded.  Stiles eyes fell on Boyd, who was quiet (not that he's anything  _but_ quiet).

     "What about you, Boyd?  Do you have a suggestion for the first actual pack movie night?"  Stiles inquired.  Boyd looked sheepish and he took a hesitant glance at Lydia.

     "I..uh...I actually thought Lydia's suggestion of The Notebook sounded good."  Stiles couldn't contain the "aw" that escaped his lips and neither could a few other's of the pack.  Erica lightly patted Boyd on the head and affectionately called him a "big old softie".

     "Sorry folks, but you all have been overridden. And Derek, the reason why you didn't even get a say like the others did, is because you and I both know your movie experience is so badly inept that you should be completely disregarded in any cinematic preference surveys."  Stiles winked at the man who was scowling on the couch.  Stiles refused to let himself realize that he just  _winked_ at Derek, so he continued onward. "So, my werewolfy and bansheeic friends, we will be watching...drum roll please!"  Scott supplied a drum roll on the coffee table in front of where he and Allison were sitting.  Allison covered her mouth in giggles and Jackson scoffed from the other side of the room. "The Avengers!"  With the admission, Stiles took a large bow.  When everyone seemed to agree on the choice, Stiles sent the terrible trio of Isaac, Erica, and Boyd out into town for the movie and some pizzas.  They left quickly and the others were left in the loft.  

     Peter excused himself from the room and headed back upstairs.  Lydia and Jackson retired to the kitchen in hopes to find drinks for everyone.  Derek, Stiles, Scott, and Allison stayed in the living room to chat.  Stiles gave out a slight huff as he landed back on the couch next to Derek.  He was still tired, but his injuries were starting to flare up again.  He wasn't sure he was going to be able to eat pizza, even  _if_ his stomach was starting to growl.  He just didn't want to risk irritating the nasty bruises.  Leaning back into the couch, he closed his eyes and willed the back of his head to stop throbbing.  He was thankful his friends were talking quietly.  Maybe picking a very action packed and very loud movie wasn't the best idea.  Stiles enjoyed the half hour of peace he had on the couch next to Derek.  In the time, he let himself be overcome with the sense of safety next to Derek.  He found that if he focused, he noticed the dip in the couch cushion Derek's body made.  He could feel the couch slightly vibrate as Derek spoke.  And if Stiles really, _really_ focused, he thought he could smell a little bit of that woodsy smell from before.  

     It wasn't long before his peace was interrupted by a very excited terrible trio entering the loft.  They slid the large metal door to the side and came bounding in all shouting "Pizza" at the top of their lungs.  Actually, they more or less howled, if Stiles was being honest.  He willed himself to appear excited even if he was strongly regretting the movie night.  The entire pack gathered around the large TV and Stiles was a little surprised how close everyone was.  He was still next to Derek (and Stiles was not going to blush because he was now pressed flush against the werewolf. Nope.  Not going to blush.  Shit.  Yeah he was blushing) while Scott was on his other side.  Allison had positioned herself more or less on Scott's lap.  Scott had a look of concentration on his face.  Stiles had to bite back a fit of giggles when he realized his best friend was praying not to pop a boner.  Lydia and Jackson both were on the couch as well. Though the furniture piece was probably only made for four people, they made it fit six.  The terrible trio, however, found that the floor was more than adequate for moving viewing as they were all sprawled out in front of the couch.   Peter had denied "cuddle time" as he called it.

     "If I want to spend time pressing my body against any of you, I will let you know." He gave Stiles a lingering look combined with a wink and Stiles resisted the urge to throw up.  The creeper wolf decided to sit at the kitchen island, far away but still in view of the movie.  Everyone had a plate of pizza on their lap and drinks were precariously placed everywhere.  Some on laps, some in between legs, some in other dangerous areas.  Derek had growled about not getting any on the couch. 

     Soon enough, the group was settled in and the movie began.   Glancing around the room, Stiles was taken aback by the scene.  He had known that everyone was  pack, but this was more than such.  Until then, Stiles had only seen the gatherings as a necessary part of their lives.  They had to stay in touch so they could stay strong.  So they could stay alive.  But this had shown a different connection between everyone.  This was...a family.  Stiles stole a look at Derek and saw he was looking at everyone as well.  They made eye contact (very close eye contact due to the overcrowding on the couch).  Stiles wondered if Derek was thinking about his relatives before the fire.  How they were  _literally_ a family as well as a pack.  He knew what they had now was nothing compared to the original hale family line, but it was..something.  Stiles hoped Derek thought it was enough.  Stiles hoped that Derek thought  _he_ was enough. 

     The movie started and Stiles was right to think he may come to hate his choice in films.  The opening fight sequence was already making his head painfully throb and he hadn't even touched his pizza yet.  Everyone else had demolished their own and Scott was now eyeing Stiles' plate threateningly.  When Scott had actually licked his lips in want, Stiles sighed and just handed the hungry boy his plate.  Scott looked like he could kiss Stiles in gratitude, and quickly got to work on the pizza.  Stiles resigned to slinking as far back into the comfortable couch as he could for the rest of the film.  He caught Derek eyeing him a few times during the movie, but they didn't talk.  His headache got worse with every explosion.  And The Avengers had a lot of explosions.  Wincing through every one, the movie finally ended.  At that point, Stiles had begun to see spots thanks to his now almost migraine headache.  Glancing at his phone,  Stiles saw he only had about twenty minutes before he needed to be back at his uncle's.  The movie was much longer than he remembered.  Groaning as he got up due to lack of muscle movement, tiredness, and pain from his body, he headed towards the door.

     "Thank you everyone, but your favorite person named Stiles has to get going."  He tried to sound like his normal self, but he ended up sounded as tired as he felt. 

     "Aw, man!  You can't stay out longer?" Scott all but whined.

     "You know my uncle, dude." Stiles bemoaned. "He will freak if I'm out past curfew."  Which was true.  Stiles just..neglected to mention how  _much_ he would freak.  He made himself wave everyone a goodbye and started towards the door again.  As he was leaving, he heard footsteps behind him.  Turning, he saw Derek making his way after him.  Cocking an eyebrow at the man, Stiles spoke up. "Yes, Sourwolf?"  

     "I'll walk you out."  Was all the alpha offered before he was making his way down the stairs next to Stiles.  The boy forced himself to take each stair as normally as he could.  He managed not to pant in pain like he wanted to.  Jesus, how many stairs did Derek have? The duo made it all the way to the bottom and Stiles internally screamed with joy.  Walking outside, Stiles was met with a relieving coolness of night air.  Stiles thanked Derek for his chivalry, and took a few steps towards his jeep. "Stiles?"  Derek called quietly.  Stiles turned and saw a very..gentle looking Derek.  His eyes were furrowed as usual, but they were in concern.  His eyes were soft and his face was open.  Just wanting to be perceived as not a threat.  Stiles laughed inwardly about thinking of Derek as a threat.  He hadn't done that in a while.  Now when he thought of Derek (especially of late), the only danger was of blood flow to a certain region in his pants. 

     "Yeah?"  He responded.  

     "Are you feeling okay?"  Stiles just stared back at him.

     Shit shit shit shit shit.  He fucked up.  Again.  Derek knows. He knows.  Stiles was so  _stupid_ to think Derek wouldn't catch the scent of pain on him today.  He was basically asking him to smell him when they spent most of the day together.  Damn it, he was so stupid.  Realizing he was fucked, Stiles' hands began to buzz again.  

     "Uh."  Was all he was able to get out.

     "You smelled...uncomfortable this afternoon and during the movie I kept smelling..pain."  Derek's eyes hardened the slightest. "Are you hurt?"  He questioned.  Stiles breathed in and tried to come up with something.  Maybe Derek doesn't know the extent of his injuries.

     "I'm not going to lie, Sourwolf.  I had a nasty headache today and right now it's about to go into a full blown migraine."  And it was true.  The back of his head was pounding now, and he just wanted to get to the glovebox in his jeep and take out some more pain meds.  Derek didn't say anything for a minute, and Stiles tried to to squirm under the gaze.  He hoped Derek hadn't received x-ray vision recently, because it felt like Derek was able to see all of the bruises on his body.  

     "Make sure you take some medicine, okay?"  Derek finally said.  "And-"

     "And text you when I'm going to bed."  Stiles smiled, glad the conversation was over and he had just overreacted before. "Don't worry, Derek, I will.  I kind of like the little nighttime routine we have going on."  Stiles didn't mean to admit the last part, but it was true enough.  He liked texting Derek goodnight.  He liked texting Derek, period.  Any excuse to talk with the other man, Stiles would jump on. 

     "Oh." Derek said.  He looked a little surprised. "Uh.  Good.  Thank you."  With that, Stiles gave a nod and got in his jeep.  Derek watched as the young man pulled out of the area and back onto the road.  It wasn't until Derek was well out of werewolf ear shot and sight, that Stiles finally let himself groan.  He had been holding in the noise for almost an hour, and now that he could finally let it out without fear of someone hearing, the pain took over.  He let a hand rest gently on his stomach, willing the aches to leave.  He just kept letting out noises of pain as he drove slowly back to his uncle's.  He was surprised he didn't slip up and make any whimpers throughout the day.  Now that he started, it was like he couldn't stop.  Every thirty seconds or so, another wave of painful throbbing broke though his body.  He'd grit his teeth the best he could, but the grunts and moans always escaped his mouth.  Stiles managed to get the small bottle of pills out from the glovebox and take a few.  They were yet to kick in, and all Stiles wanted to do was curl back up against Derek and let him take away the pain.  

     All too soon, Stiles was making his way up to the front door of his uncle's house.  Letting himself in, he quietly made his way to the living room, hoping his uncle would still be too hung over or tired to hurt him again.  Sure enough when he entered the living room, his uncle was passed out on the recliner.  Stiles breathed a sigh of relief.  Looks like he would get a day off between beatings.  Turning quietly but quickly, Stiles went upstairs. The steps were a lot more difficult without his alpha next to him, but he managed.  Once in his room, he slowly disrobed and shot a nervous glance towards the window.  The blinds were shut completely.  Relaxing a bit, Stiles continued to take his clothes off.  It wasn't that he was nervous about peeping toms or anything.  But he had a habit of attracting window-climbing-werewolves.  The last thing he needed was a wall climbing teenager or alpha making their way into his room while he was showing off his battered body.  

     Quietly padding into the bathroom, Stiles locked the door and took out the vinegar and toothbrush from that morning.  Going through the process hurt just as much as the first time, but Stiles knew it would help.  Thankful that his uncle was passed out, Stiles let a few small whimpers as he brushed his stomach.  The place had turned an ugly dark purple at this point.  Actually, a few places looked black.  Making himself not look for too long, the treatment was done.  Putting away the materials and heading back to his room, Stiles got his phone out to text Derek.  

    He was scared about Derek finding out tonight, but underneath all the fear in the moment, Stiles was..relieved.  The idea of Derek knowing made Stiles feel better.  It was stupid, but it felt like if..maybe..if Derek knew, he could help.  Or maybe not help, but he could comfort Stiles.  Maybe take away some of the pain.  Maybe figuratively. Maybe literally.  

     No.  Stiles wouldn't make Derek do that.  That would be using him.  Stiles cared too much about Derek to use him like anyone else had.  Like Kate had.  The alpha was more than a pain-sucking machine, or fangs, or a  _werewolf._ Derek was gentle and strong and caring and Stiles would be damned if he took advantage of such a great person.  He was really beginning to care for Derek and if the feelings he had were going to stay, Stiles was determined to be the best thing he could be for Derek.  Just because he was being beaten, doesn't mean he could drag Derek into the mess.  He would keep him out of it.  He would be obedient and a good pack member.  He would help Derek better his movie knowledge and he would pine from afar.  He would not become some lovesick puppy now that he was crushing on Derek.  Or more than crushing.  

     It didn't matter, though, since Derek would never return the feelings.  He, like everyone else in Stiles life, saw him as a spazz.  There was no need to pretend anything differently.  Derek was way out of Stiles' league.  He was everything Stiles wasn't, and there would be nothing between them.  Even if things were _good_ between them right now, friendship was all there would be.  Trying not to feel too disappointed, Stiles texted Derek.

     " _I'm headed to bed, Sourwolf.  I had a great day with you today.  Thank you."_ Stiles dressed in his usual pajamas and laid down on the bed.  It wasn't long before his phone buzzed.

     " _I had a good time, too.  We should do it again?"_ Stiles tried not to focus on how the second portion wasn't a statement.  It was a question.  Derek was wondering if it was alright with Stiles as well if they hung out again.  Despite his best effort, the boy smiled at the screen.

     " _Absolutely."_ After that message, Stiles quickly sent another in a moment of impulse. " _I wanted to say thank you.  For all of the stuff you do for me and the pack.  I'm really glad you're the alpha.  That you're_ my  _alpha."_ Stiles desperately wanted to say more, but he knew if he didn't stop when he did, he would say things Derek didn't need to hear, especially over text.  He just really wanted to let Derek know how much he meant to him.   It was a few minutes before Derek replied.

     " _You're welcome, Stiles.  Now go to sleep."_ It wasn't a long response, but it Derek didn't seem angry at Stiles' words.  He considered it a win. 

     " _Goodnight, Derek."_ Stiles responded.

_"Goodnight, Stiles."_ Stiles stared at the screen until it went dark and turned it back on so he could look again.  After the screen went black once more, he put it on the nightstand next to the bed and tried to get comfortable enough for sleep.  It was difficult with all of the pain, but manageable.  The pills he took earlier were starting to really kick in and it was a lot easier to rest now.  

     He dreamt of a pair of familiar glowing red eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are my favorite part, guys! Thanks for the nice words! I love love love seeing the feedback and what you guys want to see. Is it bad that I am already coming up with a couple new fic ideas for after I finish this monster? Hmm...Maybe I could see which one you guys want to see after this one? ;]


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a big plot chapter! This part will really move along the story and will set up for some later scenes! Hope you guys like it since I was a little nervous about this update.

     Stiles spent most of his Sunday in his room.  He woke up at a decent time, but didn't get out of bed until noon.  And that was only so he could brush his teeth and treat his bruises.  The vinegar had helped significantly and now the marks didn't make him want to vomit.  They were still nasty as all hell, but his legs and chest were back to "bad" and not "horrible".  His stomach was still too tender and bruised to really treat it as well as he'd like to, but he brushed his body the best he could.  Quickly heading back to his room, Stiles dressed in sweats and a shirt.  He had no plans to leave the house that day, and by God, he would be comfortable.  He stayed in his room as long as he could manage, but eventually his stomach said he needed to eat.  Bruises or not, he hadn't eaten anything the day before and only filled his stomach with coffee.  He just had to hope his stomach would be able to handle a small amount of food. Taking a few preparation breaths, Stiles headed out from the somewhat safety of his room to downstairs.  He reached the main floor with only slight irritation from his body and walked towards the living room.  The hallway which lead to his destination still had photos hanging on the walls.  A few were of his uncle and people Stiles didn't recognize, but most were of Uncle Tom and Stiles' family.  One shown a younger version of himself going down a slide on his uncle's lap.  He remembered that day; Stiles was convinced the slide was too dangerous to go down by himself, and after denying to go on the park equipment, his uncle coaxed him into trying it if the older man went with.  Even in the photo, Stiles' expression was mixed between excitement and apprehension.  After the first trip with his uncle, Stiles was impossible to remove from the slide.  He couldn't get enough of it.  His uncle had laughed and laughed at the boy's newfound love.   A few other photos were of his uncle and Stiles' parents.  His eyes fell on a photo of the three of them during a christmas party.  It was held at the very same house he was standing in, a year before his mother got sick.  His father's mouth was open wide with laughter, and his uncle looked like he was the cause of it, probably joking as he did back then.  His mother was between the two men.  He couldn't stop looking at the woman.  She was just as beautiful as he remembered her.   Her hair was a little brighter than his father's and her eyes were bright as she took in the sight of her husband and brother-in-law.  Stiles was transfixed by how she just seemed to glow through the camera.  Her face was warm, smile as welcoming as ever, and her hair...oh wow.  Stiles had forgotten about how beautiful her hair was.  She must have curled it for the party since it was falling onto her shoulders in waves much more curly than their normal texture.  He remembered how he used to grab at her hair whenever he was in her lap.  He would curl his hands round the strands, and just latch further onto his mother.  Sometimes he would fall asleep with his head on her shoulder and face turned into her hair.  It always smelled like strawberries.  When she got sick, she lost all of her hair.  Stiles didn't care in the slightest; she was still his mom.  But now that he had the image of her with beautiful locks again, he knew the image of the woman then, and the image of the woman in the hospital were very different.  Stiles would never say his mother lost her beauty, though.  Even until the end, she held life in her eyes and a warmth in her presence.  She was weak, and tired, but she was still radiating love and life.  Stiles refused to see the irony in the situation.  His mother had never stopped being beautiful.  Not before the illness.  Not during.  Not after.  

     Without knowing what he was doing, Stiles raised his hand to the photo.  He brushed a couple fingers against the image of his mother.  He wished he had more photos of her.  He yearned to see more of her like this.  Before the hospitals.  Before his father lost her.  Before he lost her.  His fingers caressed her image softly and he let himself pretend for a moment that he could feel her.  

     "What the hell are you doing?"  Stiles startled at the voice and turned to see his uncle standing at the end of the hallway, watching with narrowed eyes.  Stiles forced his hand back down at his side.  

     "Uh–nothing, Sir.  Just–just looking at some photos."  His uncle's eyes darted to the frame and back to Stiles.

     "She's dead, Boy."  His eyes were hard and Stiles gulped.

     "I know, Sir.  I just.  I just was looking, is all."  Stiles looked down at his feet, avoiding any act of aggression.

     "Well stop.  You should remember killing her enough.  You don't need any pictures."  Stiles nodded his head and kept his eyes staring at the hardwood floor.  "Why are you down here?"  His uncle questioned.

     "I was going to get something to eat, Sir."  Stiles rubbed his hands slowly in front of himself to try and will the buzzing away.  His uncle scoffed.

     "You can wait until you make dinner."  Stiles didn't want to wait since he hadn't eaten since before he got there Friday night, but made himself bite back the remark and substituted it with a nod.  "I will call you down when I want you to make it.  Now go back to your room.  I don't want to see you around here."  With that, his uncle turned back around and walked back towards the living room.  Stiles wasted no time in heading back upstairs and letting himself into his room.  Sitting himself down on his bed, Stiles realized he hadn't texted Derek besides the usual "I'm awake".  He contentedly got his phone out and messaged the alpha.

     " _What are you doing?"_ Stiles didn't know what else to text.  He didn't need anything or have any questions.  He just..wanted to talk to Derek.  He got a response pretty quickly.

     " _I just got done working out."_ Stiles tried his best not to groan at the message.  He didn't need to be thinking of Derek working out.  He did not need to be thinking with his penis.  If he did, he would have no conversation skills whatsoever and that was just not going to fly.  Resigning to think about what Derek said later that night when he was alone in the shower, Stiles responded. _  
_

" _I still don't know why you subject yourself to torture, but to each his own.  How was your day?"_ Stiles was pulling at straws here, but he didn't care.  If he could get Derek chatting, it would take his mind off how hungry he was.  Derek and his lovely habit to take away Stiles' trouble.  The man was something else.  Stiles wondered and hoped that he could someday do the same for Derek.  He  _wanted_ to.  

     Derek didn't text back for a few minutes.  Actually, it was more than a few minutes.  Stiles had patiently (okay impatiently) waited for the alert from his phone about Sourwolf's text.  When the thirty minute marker passed, Stiles decided Derek just didn't want to talk.  Turning over on his bed, Stiles tried not to feel too sorry for himself.  

     His phone buzzed. 

     Stiles swore he completely forgot his injuries because he  _flung_ himself at his cellphone. 

     " _Sorry, I was in the shower.  My day has been alright.  What about yours?  Do anything interesting?"_ Oh lord have mercy upon Stiles' soul.  Derek was making this whole "don't be horny" thing very difficult.  If Stiles thought the idea of Derek working out was attractive, then him in the shower was down right sinful.  He focused as well as he could on the rest of the message.

     " _Completely unproductive.  So fantastic!  I'm not going to lie, school tomorrow does not sound too exciting."_ There.  That was completely void of Stiles' inner turmoil.  

     " _Somehow I think you'll survive."_ Stiles smiled at the idea of Derek rolling his eyes as he sent his message.

      _"Will you go to school for me?"_ Stiles hoped the whining tone he wanted to go with the sentence was well received. 

     " _Please tell me you aren't serious."_ Stiles chuckled at the remark.

     " _Please?   This is what alphas do."_

 _"1) I am an alpha werewolf, not a school surrogate. 2) I think people would notice I wasn't you, as I am neither lanky, neurotic, or covered in moles. 3) As I said before, I think you you survive."_ Stiles wasn't sure which point was his favorite.  Settling on the second, he responded. 

     " _Aw!  You noticed my moles?"_

 _"Of course that is what you took out of that message."_ Stiles was grinning ear to ear from the little conversation that just happened.  The two continued to text for a long time.  Actually, they texted for three solid hours.  Most of it was friendly banter, but Stiles was not complaining.  The only thing better than this would be if the two of them were actually together.  He wasn't surprised how Derek had taken his mind off of his stomach.  He had almost completely forgotten how hungry he was.  He was only reminded of it whenever his stomach decided to disturb the otherwise quiet room with it's impressive growling.  He was still texting Derek with his uncle's voice shouted up from downstairs.

     "Boy!  Get down here and start dinner!"  Stiles jumped out of bed and quickly sent Derek a message that wasn't at all congruent with their current conversation.

     " _I have to make dinner for me and my uncle, but I will text you after?"_ Stiles was given an immediate affirmation by Derek and Stiles quickly made his way downstairs.   He was passing the photos in the hallway again and noticed the one he was looking at before with his mother was no longer hanging up.  

***

     Stiles made it through dinner easily enough.  He kept his head down as he made some burgers.  He knew his uncle liked his extra well done and with plenty of lettuce on it, so the man was happy with what Stiles put in front of him.  He quickly made his own food and sat at the other end of the table.  They ate quietly and Stiles quickly put the dishes in the washer after they were finished.  He was now in his room again, and began to text Derek.  The two picked up their conversation where they had left off.  Stiles didn't notice the hours tick by.

     Eventually Stiles had to excuse himself to get ready for bed and the boy left his room to shower.  He tried to clean up as quickly as he could so he was able to get back to Derek.  Even if Derek wasn't actually  _there._ He even treated his bruises faster than he normally did.  He was happy he hadn't run into his uncle in the hallway so far during his stay, and he quietly shut his door.  

     He texted Derek all night.

***

     The morning was pretty normal.  His uncle was still asleep in his room when Stiles left.  Part of him wished the man had a job to go to, but he hadn't been working for years now.  Stiles didn't know if he had retired early, was fired, or simply chose not to work, but he never once asked.  He didn't risk making himself any breakfast and Stiles found himself out of the house a whole thirty minutes than he usually would leave.  He couldn't be out of that place fast enough.  He got a phone call from Scott when he was already halfway to the teen's house.  Pulling into the driveway, Scott jumped in with his usual energy.

     "Good morning, Scotty!"  Stiles was chipper, which was strange if he thought about it.  But a night of texting Derek would do that to the kid.  Scott beamed back at him and the two chatted about their Sunday's.  Neither of them did anything of interest, and soon they were just talking to pass the time.   Stiles had been mulling over an idea he had come up with earlier yesterday morning and he decided now was as good of time to bring it up as any.  "Hey, so I was thinking," Stiles began. "You know how you said you would make it up to me for canceling on the movie premiere?"  Scott nodded guiltily so Stiles continued.  "Well, what if we had a bro night tomorrow after the pack meeting?"  Stiles smiled at Scott, thinking about pizza, popcorn, soda, and quality time with his favorite beta teenager with a slightly crooked jaw line. 

     "Uh."  Was all Scott said.  Stiles felt his mood plummet.  Sighing, he looked back to the road.

     "Don't tell me.  Allison?"  The silence after was pretty much an admission.  Stiles let out another sigh and kept his eyes ahead of him.

     "Sorry, dude.  But how about Wednesday!" Stiles took a furtive look at the boy next to him and Scott continued. "Yeah! I mean, My mom will be on the late shift so we don't have to worry about her making us go to bed!" Stiles didn't mention how they shouldn't stay up late on a school night, anyway. "We can watch movies, get pizza or take out, and raise hell!"  Stiles found himself smiling at the effort Scott was making.  He let the boy pitch his sale a little more for the heck of it, but eventually he cut the rambling kid off.

     "Okay, okay.  Wednesday night."  Stiles smiled at Scott, who was looking like a puppy dog wagging his tail.  Stiles laughed at the happiness in the boy's expression as they arrived at school. They made their way inside the building and soon it was first period.  

     The rest of the day went by at at normal pace.  Slow, basically, but that's school for you.  Slow, draining, "educational", and boring.  He was more than ready for lunchtime when he was finally headed towards the cafeteria.  He sent Derek his normal lunch update and sat down with his tray of two tacos, jello cup, carrots, and bottle of water.  Tacos are something to never be questioned.  If anyone ever offered Stiles a taco, he would take it.  Top five favorite foods, honestly.  With any other food, Stiles would get tired of eating it.  Burgers were great, but eventually the food just got tiring and Stiles would want something else to eat.  But with tacos, he would eat and eat and eat and never get bored.  He would only stop eating them because he was full.  So it was a tragedy when he couldn't finish the second taco since his stomach started to hurt.  Leaving the second taco on his tray, Stiles decided to pay attention to the people around him.  Danny had apparently finished the book he was reading the week before and had taken up a new one.  The terrible trio were again on the verge of a food fight.  Allison and Scott were...well being Allison and Scott.  Jackson was eating his own taco's with a bored expression on his face.  Lydia was checking her nails.  He decided to make small talk.

     "How are you enjoying the new 'pairing up' thing Derek is having us do?"  Stiles asked Lydia.  She paused in her nail inspection so she could give him a questioning look.

     "Jackson and I don't mind it.  It's not like we weren't in contact all day anyway."  She shrugged. "Besides,  I doubt you're complaining about it."  

     "Uh. What do you mean?"  Stiles was a little confused.

     "It isn't like you hate who you're paired up with.  Especially now that you can take naps on him."  Lydia went back to looking at her nails.  Stiles gawked at the strawberry blonde.

     "I–I don't know what you're–your'e talking about."  Stiles was not that transparent, was he?  He had just begun to see how bad he had it for Derek  _himself_.  There was no way Lydia knew about his feelings for the alpha before him.  No way.  Oh my god, did everyone else know?  Lydia sighed slightly and gave him a quick once over.

     "Stiles, calm down.  It isn't a big deal.  I just figured you would be excited about being next to a certain Hale alpha.  I mean, I know  _he_ is certainly enjoying  _your_ company."  Stiles was taken aback.  He thought he was going to chat with Lydia, not discover life changing information.  Holy.  Holy shit.  Okay.  He had to focus.  He couldn't find anything to say back to the girl, but thankfully she wasn't too interested in conversation because she promptly turned to Jackson and engaged a new one with him.  Luckily, no one else at the table seemed to notice what had just transpired between the two of them.  Stiles was left to himself for the remainder of lunch.  

     So Lydia either knew about Stiles' feelings for Derek, or had at least picked up on them.  This wasn't the worst thing in the world, but he hoped she wouldn't say anything to Derek.  She wouldn't.  She may be sinister when she wanted to be, but Lydia wasn't the type of person who would do that to someone.  But she had said something else that stuck in Stiles' mind.  She said Derek was enjoying spending time with Stiles.  He had supposed as much when he had started seeking out his companionship, but Lydia had alluded to him enjoying Stiles the way that Stiles....enjoyed Derek.  There was absolutely no way that could have been right.  Lydia was perceptive enough to see how bad Stiles had it for the werewolf, but surely she was mistaken in thinking Derek could even possibly think of Stiles the same way.  So he let him take a nap on his chest.  His very firm, very warm, very nice chest.  And they had gotten coffee.  And had dinner.  And had the dinner again for leftovers before a creepy Peter interrupted.  And texted a lot (okay that one was basically out of necessity since the new pack rules).   _But that was it._ Nothing more.  

     ....right?

***

     Stiles spent the rest of the day trying not to freak himself out.  If he let himself, he would just overthink the situation.  He tried his best not to be overcome with the fantasy land where Derek freaking Hale liked him back.  Mercifully, the day ended.  He was going to sigh in relief until he realized what was coming next.  He had lacrosse practice.  Lacrosse practice meant tackling his classmates.  Or rather, him being tackled  _by_ his classmates.  Normally that sucked, but with his body being so worn down, it was going to be hell.  As soon as he got out of his final class, he more or less jogged to the locker room.  If he hurried, he could change into his uniform before anyone was able to see his bruises.  He was panting by the time he got into the locker room, but he was in fact alone.  Quickly, Stiles tore off his clothes and pulled on his practice stuff.  He didn't slow down until his torso was fully covered.  Once the marks were safely behind his jersey, Stiles allowed himself to breathe in relief.  He barely managed to avoid any unwanted stares in time because Scott, Boyd and Isaac came into the area not ten seconds later.  They were both happily chatting about who knows what when they spotted Stiles semi out of breath.  They must have chalked it up to Stiles being Stiles because neither said anything.  They got ready for practice as well and they headed out to the field.   

     Practice.   _Was_.  Hell.  

     It seemed like everyone had made it their mission to personally maim the kid.  He swore he got tackled on every single play.  Whenever he landed, Stiles swore he was going to pass out from the pain.  He didn't try to hide his grunts or moans.  He cursed the lacrosse Gods and just tried not to make any of the pack members around notice how badly he was actually in pain.  The minutes were impossibly slow, but Stiles finally found himself sitting on the bench as the rest of the team headed towards the showers. Stiles had decided to stay back when he realized he was in no shape to shower with the team.  Even with all of the tackles he took in practice, there was no way his body would  be as bruised as he was.  He ceded to staying on the bench, trying to catch his breath and wait for the pain to stop.  His ribs were on fire and his stomach felt like it was threatening to have an alien spawn rip its' way out the tissue like in "Alien".  He tried to slowly rub his stomach in hopes that the motion was somehow alleviate the pain.  If only he had some of that awesome pain sucking power like the others in the pack did.  He was beginning to think he would be able to walk to the jeep without falling over, when a voice startled him.

     "Stiles?"  He turned his head only to see Isaac standing there with lacrosse bag in hand and hair still wet from the showers.  

     "Hey, Isaac.  What's up?"  Stiles wasn't exactly close with the beta, but they certainly got along with one another.

     "Boyd was planning to stay after and get more of a work out in.  Erica is going to pick him up when he's done. So..."  Isaac trailed off.  It wasn't too difficult for Stiles to connect the dots.

     "I can give you a ride, no problem."  Stiles offered a pained smile to the boy and hoped he didn't give himself away.  Based on Isaac's reaction, he failed.

     "Hey, are you okay?  You don't look to good."  Stiles tried to chuckle a little, but it came out more as a wheeze.

     "Yeah, man.  I just am starting to feel practice and all of the times I ended up on the ground."  Stiles tried another smile.  

     "Yeah, you got hit pretty hard a couple times."  Isaac's gaze went over Stiles before he stepped closer, setting his bag down.  "Here, let me help."  Before Stiles could protest, and he was going to protest, Isaac placed a hand on the back of Stiles' neck.  He could feel the pain increase for a split second, but then it started to dull away.  Stiles tried his best not to groan in relief.  "Jesus, you must have gotten hit harder than I thought.  I'm taking a lot of pain, dude."  With that, Stiles' attention snapped back into the present and he forced himself out of Isaac's grasp.  

     "Thanks, but–but uh-I'll be okay.  Just sore.  Yeah, just sore and stuff.  Heh.  Thank you, though."  Stiles wasn't sure what he was saying, but he needed to take the attention off of him.  "So yeah, let's just.  Let's just go get Scott and I can take you guys home, huh?"  Isaac looked confused and, oh god, he looked suspicious.  Fuck.  Okay, it was alright.  No biggie.  Stiles felt largely better than he did moments before thanks to Isaac, but it could not happen again.  

     "Are you okay, Stiles?  You felt like you're in a lot of pain.  Like...a lot."  Isaac had passed confusion and was now completely suspicious.  And...concerned.  Crap. Stiles did not need a concerned werewolf on his ass right now.  

     "Yeah, man!  Just sore.  You saw how badly I got tackled.  Heh. And I'm always sporting new injuries thanks to my inherently spastic nature."  Isaac's eyes were narrowed and there was a look behind them that Stiles wasn't sure he understood.  Stiles had no clue what Isaac was thinking, but it looked like he..recognized what Stiles was saying.  Maybe that was good.  He knew as well as anyone else in the pack how accident prone he was.  For fuck's sake, he tipped over a vending machine before.  

     "Yeah...you  _do_ have a lot of trouble moving normally.." Isaac mused.  Stiles knew he didn't seem 100% convinced, but he was agreeing to what Stiles was saying.  As soon as they got out of the situation, the sooner Isaac would forget this happened and the less likely Stiles was to throw up and die.  This was awful.  

     "Exactly.  Jesus, is Scott exfoliating in there or something?"  Stiles was getting very irritated at his lack of best friend right now.  

     "Am I  _what?"_ Ugh.  Speak of the Devil and so shall he appear.  Turning, Stiles saw Scott making his way towards the two teenagers.  Bag on shoulder and smile on face.  The ever oblivious werewolf.  Isaac opened his mouth to say something but Stiles didn't give him the chance. "Come on guys, let's go.  Gotta get home and do homework and all that."  God Stiles was really off his game.  Without much more trouble (thank God), the three team members finally got in the jeep and Stiles headed towards the loft to drop Isaac off.  

     The ride was awkwardly quiet.  Scott had innocently started conversations which quickly dwindled off.  Stiles couldn't find it in himself to humor the kid, and Isaac seemed the same way.  Stiles was too busy keeping his eyes firmly on the road and off of the passengers that he didn't notice how Isaac kept sending him concerned glances.  Eventually Stiles pulled up to the loft and Isaac let himself out of the jeep.  With a quiet thank you, he headed towards the entrance.  Without waiting to see if he got inside alright, Stiles pulled out of the area and onto the main road.  He may or may not have sped a little bit to get away as soon as possible. Scott didn't seem to notice, though.  On what was probably the fifth conversation attempt, Stiles finally broke and forced himself to talk with the boy.  He couldn't tell you what they talked about, but he hoped the responses he gave were adequate.  Soon enough, he was pulling into Scott's driveway and letting the boy out.  

     "So, Wednesday night?"  Stiles offered as Scott left the vehicle.

     "Absolutely!" Scott smiled back at him.  With that, Scott walked to the front door and let himself inside.  Stiles left the driveway and headed back to his uncle's.  The drive was as peaceful as he could make it.  The wind felt nice against his now very sore muscles and the radio silence was calming, but it wasn't as good as it usually was.  Stiles supposed it was partly because of what happened with Isaac.  

     It was okay, though.  Isaac didn't know anything, and he probably thought Stiles was just being weird like usual. He was okay.  No one was going to find out.  

     He arrived at the house and stiffly let himself out of his jeep after he parked it on the side of the road.  When he got inside, he started up the stairs.  

     "Boy!  Get in here!"  Stiles winced at the tone already in his uncle's voice.   Stiles set his bag down and quickly made his way into the living room.  He didn't want to keep his uncle waiting.  He turned the corner and didn't like what he saw.  His uncle was pacing the room with a drink in his hand and something in the other.  Stiles didn't like that the drink was clearly not his first if his slight stagger was anything to go by.  It was after he noticed the inebriated state his uncle was in that he noticed what his uncle was holding in the other hand.  

     It was the photo from the hallway Stiles had looked at the morning before.  

     "Yes, sir?"  Stiles asked quietly.  God this was going to be awful, he could already tell.  His uncle held up the photo.

     "You see this?"  Stiles nodded. "This woman was the best thing that happened to this family and you took her away."  His uncle was slurring at this point. "You fucking did this.  Now she's gone and your father and I have to deal with a fuck up kid.  Jesus christ, look at you.  Just standing there like a fucking idiot."  Stiles had nothing to say. "Oh are you speechless now?  You have got to be fucking kidding me.   _Now_ is the time that you keep your fucking mouth shut?"  Stiles  tried to say something but his mouth didn't seem to work. " _Jesus christ say something!"_ Stiles wasn't prepared for it when his uncle threw the picture frame at him, resulting in it hitting his mouth and jaw.  Instantly, he tasted blood and a hand shot up to his mouth as he stumbled backward.  Still in shock, he missed it when his uncle closed the distance between them.  When he regained enough of his balance to look back at his uncle, he was shocked at how close the man was. "Jesus, you are such a fucking _waste_!"  Stiles tried to block the first hit, but only managed to block some of the force.  He still stumbled a little again and was too unprepared for the next blow.  His uncle slammed his fist on the side of Stiles' face and he boy instantly fell to the floor in a mess.  Maybe his uncle was too drunk to bend over, or maybe he just started to enjoy using his feet, but he started to once again slam his foot into Stiles' still beaten body.  It seemed like an eternity before his uncle finally stopped his kicks, but eventually he did.  He heard the man say something but it Stiles was in too pain to register it.  When he looked up, he was alone.  

     Stiles wasn't sure how long he stayed on the floor.  But he was now very, very thankful he hadn't been able to change out of his lacrosse gear.  For whatever reason, he left his pads on during the drive home, and they had shielded a majority of his uncle's hits.  He had managed to still land a few damaging blows, but this was not nearly as bad as the first session.  With the taste of blood still flowing in his mouth, Stiles forced himself to stand up.  He swayed slightly and had to brace himself against the wall, but he stayed on his feet. Very slowly, he got himself upstairs and into the bathroom, but his hand never left the wall's support.  Once behind the door, he gradually took off his pads and clothes.  When he was finally naked, he dared a glance in the mirror.  His chest had a couple new marks, but they weren't nearly as bad as the first time had been like he thought.  His stomach was mercifully bare from any new hits.  He had known enough to keep his arms protecting the area.  The side of his face was red from where his uncle hit him, but his bottom lip was split open from where the frame had hit him.  Stiles grabbed some toilet paper and held it under the sink faucet before dabbing gently at the cut.  It wasn't terribly deep, but it would be a little swollen by tomorrow.  Fuck.  How was he going to explain that one?

     Stiles couldn't bring himself to clean his body with the vinegar, but he was able to get into the shower.  Once the spray hit him, he slowly eased himself onto the tub floor.  The warm water was helping, and the moisture was hitting his face enough to where he didn't know how much was from the shower and how much was from his eyes.  He knew he was crying, but his body wasn't really registering the feeling.  It was a numb sort of sensation.  It was really frustrating.  He was completely aware of his surroundings and what was happening, but he couldn't...process it.  All he could do was let the tears out and feel the spray on his body.  

     When he started to feel the water turn cool, he shut it off and eased himself off the floor.  He wrapped himself in a towel after patting himself dry, and grabbed his clothes off the floor before putting them in the hamper in the laundry closet at the end of the hall.  When he made it to his bedroom, all he could manage to do was get sweats and a shirt on.  He didn't bother with underwear since it would mean bending over again. He just wanted to stop feeling.  He was completely overwhelmed and he was afraid he was going to come apart at the seams.  His body hurt and his mind ached.

     He knew he could try to text Scott and talk to him.  But he was probably with Allison or something more important.  Besides, if Stiles was honest, he really wanted to talk with someone else.  

     Derek.

     God, he wanted to talk to Derek.  He missed him so much.  He would give anything to be back in that coffee place talking about anything and everything. He would give anything to be next to the alpha.  

     Grabbing his phone, he started a text message.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, there is still so much more to happen! Hope you all keep liking it...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the late update! I was in Chicago the past two days and didn't have my computer. :[ I promise I will update as often as I have been, now that I have it back in my possession. Also, you might have noticed I have a tentative chapter count! (lots of notes after this one!)

     Stiles woke feeling different.  Unfortunately, being in pain, was not the difference he was meaning.  His body was sore as he expected it to be.  The beating the night before was not nearly as bad as it could have been, but it was enough to irritate the still very tender marks from the first time.  Tentatively running his tongue over his bottom lip, Stiles felt the cut had swelled up slightly and was still very inflamed. No, the discomfort was not the difference.  He felt...determined.  Or some strange mutation of the feeling.  He had spent most of the night talking to Derek, and though the alpha never found out how unstable Stiles had been, the werewolf eased the boy's mind almost instantly.  He had texted Derek some random message and the man seamlessly developed a conversation about it.  Stiles didn't even care about how strange it was that  _Derek_ was the one to make the conversation usable.  But even through the original hysterics, Stiles felt miles better after he sent the first message.  It wasn't long before the two were talking about what new movie Derek would watch next, or a new coffee place they could try.  The only reason why they had stopped talking is because Stiles eventually fell asleep.  Derek had tried multiple times to make the kid go to bed, but Stiles had refused adamantly.  At first it was because he was too shaken up about his uncle to sleep, but eventually it turned into him not wanting to stop talking to Derek.  Quickly the night turned into Stiles blushing into the screen and sending back his best one liners.  

     Now that he was awake, he felt blush returning to his face.  Something was different.  He still felt the residual effects from the comforting atmosphere that accompanied spending time with Derek and he wanted more.  But besides wanting to continue it, Stiles wanted to  _progress_ it.  Stiles didn't want to have to only be with Derek at night over text message.  Stiles wanted to have those late night conversations in person with Derek on the couch in his loft. He wanted to spend time together while Stiles made food and Derek watched.  Stiles wanted to get coffee with Derek not as friends.  He wanted to get coffee with Derek as... _more_ than friends.  

     Maybe it was that his uncle knocked him a little too hard the other night, or maybe it was just his mind being weird so early in the morning, but Stiles didn't care.  He wanted to say "screw it" to the friendship, and just jump to the next level.  And you know what?  Derek honestly hadn't been too opposed to being with Stiles.  He had initiated conversation just as often.  And he even went out of his way to ask how Stiles was.  Derek had been acting like maybe...maybe Stiles wasn't crazy for wanting what he wanted.  Stiles could try and tell himself for the rest of his life how he shouldn't tell Derek how he felt, and how this was just a crush that would leave.  He could do all of that, but he didn't want to.   There had always been sexual tension between the two, if Stiles was honest.  He had always claimed it to be just two normal guys being the usual amount of sexually frustrated near each other.  Yeah, not his best thinking now that he was so acutely aware of his feelings.  This seemed like something that would stick around.  And God, Stiles wanted it.  Glancing at his phone to check the time, Stiles saw he needed to get ready for school and that he also had a message from Derek.

     " _I_ told _you that you should go to sleep.  Goodnight, Stiles."_ It was timestamped at 3:46 in the morning.  Stiles had fallen asleep and Derek must have waited long enough to figure it out.  When Stiles felt no embarrassment and instead felt himself blush further, he knew his new determination was well reasoned.  First thing, first.  Stiles texted Derek. _  
_

     " _Sorry for falling asleep on you last night. Good morning, though! :]"_ Stiles had never used any type of textual happy faces with Derek, and he normally wouldn't, but Stiles meant business.  He needed to pull out all the stops if he was going to do this. 

     Oh god, he was going to do this.

     Oh god,  _how_ was he going to do this?

      _Oh god, he was going to make a move on Derek Hale._

***

     His uncle was nowhere to be seen when Stiles got ready for school, as usual.  The boy made sure to treat his bruises very seriously because he had a plan.  He needed to be absolutely positive his scent would be covered with as many masks as possible.  He decided cleaning them once wasn't thorough enough.  Going over the marks a second time was definitely painful but Stiles hoped the second pass would be helpful.  Afterwards, he even put on some of the cologne he brought with him. He wasn't sure about the item while he was packing, but Stiles was thankful something had impulsed him into bringing it along.  It was years old and still barely used.  His father had gotten him it for a christmas present, and Stiles made sure to really only use it for special occasions.  And this was a special occasion.  Okay nothing fancy or anything, but making a move on an extremely hot, dangerous, amazing werewolf is pretty intense, so it was special enough.  Stiles hoped the stuff would add to the scent covering, and decided to get ready.  Not wanting to fall flat on presentation, Stiles decided to appeal to Derek's color preferences.  He wore his pair of black sneakers with his dark jeans, and a simple grey t-shirt. Stiles willed himself not to wear at least a hoodie on top, but he really wanted to appeal to Derek for once.  Deciding he would never really meet Derek's level of attractiveness, Stiles gave up and headed downstairs.  He had already taken a handful of pain meds, and they were working surprisingly quickly.  He wasn't feeling much of the discomfort he usually felt in the morning.  Some of that may have just been adrenaline pumping in anticipation of the night's activities.  Stiles pulled out a piece of paper from the junk drawer and scrawled a note explaining about how practice was "going late" (pack meeting) and that he was working on a school project with Scott the next night and would be staying there.  His mom "said it was okay" and would be there all night.  It wasn't the first time Stiles had stayed over at Scott's while visiting his uncle.  After an awkward first occurrence and a sore shoulder for a week, the man warmed up to the idea. Stiles eventually figured out that claiming it was for school and would have constant supervision was the best way to present the sleepover.  He would pack and overnight bag when he got home from the meeting, so he just grabbed his backpack and set off for school. Pulling up to Scott's Stiles started off their conversation by asking about their plans.

     "Hey, buddy.  We still on for tomorrow night?"  Stiles was a little hesitant given Scott's track record for plans. 

     "Yeah, man!  You and me!  I wish we could do it tonight, but I already have stuff planned with Allison."  Scott looked a little guilty about the fact that bro night wouldn't be until the next evening, but Stiles was just thankful that it was actually  _happening._  Stiles smiled at the boy and Scott seemed to relax a little bit.  He was starting to go on about his and Allison's plans, but his nose scrunched up like smelled something.  He looked over at Stiles and looked confused.  "You smell different."  Stiles' hands tightened around the steering wheel slightly but he forced himself to stay calm.

     "Do I?"  Scott nodded quickly.

     "You smell like that cologne your dad gave you but..like..vinegar?  You smell like cologne and vinegar.  Wait.  And medicine.  Why do you smell like medicine?"  Stiles breathed a little at this.  He knew his cover, and Scott was way too easy to convince.  

     "Yeah, I just thought I would try it out a little bit.  I kinda miss him." Which was in no way a lie. "I hear vinegar can clean pretty well.  I got pretty funky after practice yesterday and wanted to decided to give it a try."  Which only half a lie.  Vinegar did clean well.  Stiles just didn't mention how he was using it.  Going with the lacrosse excuse, Stiles continued. "And did you miss how I was everyone's tackling dummy yesterday?  How do you think I got this beauty?"  Stiles pointed to his lip and Scott's eyes widened.

     "Holy shit, man, I didn't notice that yesterday!  Are you alright?"  Stiles tried not to remark how much Scott just  _didn't notice._ But he held it back and just nodded. 

     "Yeah, buddy.  I'm okay.  Just sore as hell.  So I dosed up on some pain meds.  I'm all good."  Stiles smiled at Scott who looked hesitant for the briefest moment but then relaxed.  It worked better than Stiles had thought.  If Scott couldn't smell any pain on Stiles, then maybe that night would go better than he hoped.  The two chatted about the usual amount of life changing topics for the rest of the ride to school. 

***

     Stiles tried to focus in school.  He honest to God tried his best.  He had never tried so hard to focus than he did that day.  He had all of his materials ready for class, notebook out for taking copious notes, he even had a calculator out in case he needed it.  He was a model student in theory.  All of that went out the window as soon as the first bell rang.  He couldn't even tell you what the teacher said at the very start of class.  All he could picture was what he was going to do that night.  He had his plan, and he was going to stick to it.  Plans were good.  Plans were safe. He had already seemed to succeed in masking his scent that morning.  All he had to do was hope that it worked until after the pack meeting.  The pack had already come up with the group excuse to get out of lacrosse practice every Tuesday.  Coach was not a difficult person to confuse and with Stiles rambling about group therapy and mentions of plenty of professional opinions with ample documents verifying such meetings, and the man all but pushed the crew off the field and out of his sight.  In all honesty, Stiles wasn't sure what exactly he told the man, but he danced around the reasonings enough to where it worked.  All in all, Stiles was thankful he didn't have to worry about getting more assaulted at practice before the meeting.  He could stay relatively alright for the day. He couldn't help but replay the plan over and over in his head.  First through fourth period were spent by him pretending to pay attention while he essentially day dreamed about Derek.  

     God, he had it bad.

     Lunch time came and went with little difference.  Stiles had hoped that the other's hadn't tried speaking with him because if they had, he didn't remember saying anything.  He theorized that since he thought he would at least recall talking, they had left him to his own mind.  After a very quick and not at all flirty text to Derek explaining it was lunch time, the boy ate his food quietly as he developed operation "make a move" further.  After the lunch hour ended, he mindlessly headed back to class and didn't even try to act interested in the lessons.  

     Mercifully, the school day ended and he set out for the next step in the plan. 

***

    Stiles told Scott he had some errands to run after school so the boy needed to find another ride.  Scott came up with the great idea of asking Allison for help in that department.  Stiles would have rolled his eyes, but he had more important things to do. The Chinese take out place was not busy at all considering it was in the middle of the afternoon, but Stiles had no reservations about walking into the restaurant and ordering a plethora of food.  He made sure to get plenty of egg rolls: enough to feed a hungry werewolf.  He wasn't exactly sure what his favorite main dish was, so he kind of ordered one of everything.  He got black pepper chicken, orange chicken, beef and broccoli, hunan pork, chicken and vegetables, cashew chicken, Mongolian beef, and basically everything else they offered.  A small part of him wondered if he was going overboard, and should try to be himself, but Stiles crushed that voice into oblivion saying his plan would work.  Walking out of the place, with small feast in tow, Stiles drove to the loft.  He wanted to keep the windows down, but he was afraid the wind would cool the food too much.  Instead, he suffered through the mouthwatering smell of egg rolls that wafted through the jeeps interior.  He stopped himself from taking a bite of anything, but damn he was tempted.  Luckily, his stomach had healed enough to where his appetite was back to normal.  Well, not completely, but the thought of food didn't make him want to hurl in pain.  He was looking forward to eating this with Derek.  

     The meeting didn't start for another half hour, but Stiles wanted to get there early enough so they could eat.  The time after school until the meeting was so the pack could drop things off at home, or grab something to eat if they'd like.  Stiles' would say he just thought Derek would be hungry as well.  If it happened to be food from one of his favorite places, well...what a coincidence!  He let himself out of the jeep and quickly made it to the loft's entrance.  No time to waste, and all that.  He knocked a few short raps onto the large metal door and it wasn't long before it groaned open and Stiles was met with a slightly confused, but interested Derek.  He must have smelled the food.  Smiling, Stiles held up the bags of take out.

     "I come bearing gifts of sarcasm and egg rolls!"  He earned himself a small smile from Derek and an eye roll, but the alpha stepped aside so Stiles could enter the loft. "I thought you would be hungry and since I was in the mood for food, myself, I thought 'chinese' and here we are!"  Oh no, Stiles was dangerously close to rambling.  Not part of the plan.  Okay.  Recover.  

     "You didn't have to do this."  Derek sounded shy, but he was eagerly reaching into one of the bags on the kitchen island, probably looking for the egg rolls.  Stiles smiled hugely and handed him the small bag.  Derek's hand brushed against Stiles' and the boy willed himself to keep eye contact with Derek.  He knew he was starting to blush slightly, but he wanted Derek to see.  Right?  I mean, this was the whole point of operation "make a move".  To..make a move.  God, Derek just made him so damn nervous.  Okay, he was okay.  Stiles finally let himself drop his gaze and find some plates for the two of them.  Dumping out the food onto the dish ware, Stiles handed Derek a fork, but the man shook his head, holding up a pair of chopsticks.  

     "Of course you're skilled in the art of chopsticks. Add that to the list of 'impressive things Derek can do'".  Stiles wasn't being subtle, if Derek's slightly surprised and shy look was anything to go by.  But again, this is what he was here for.  He wanted to finally tell Derek how he felt.  This was what he wanted to tell him.  That Derek constantly amazed, impressed, surprised, comforted, attracted, aroused, interested, and soothed Stiles.  He was constantly on his mind, and Stiles wanted to know how appreciated and wanted and cared for, Derek was.  Screw subtlety. 

     The two ate quietly for a minute or two before Derek spoke up again.  Stiles didn't want to seem too eager.

     "So, are you going to tell me what happened to your face?"  Stiles froze, fork mid air.  He completely forgot about his lip.  All of his planning and he forgot his  _lip._ It was okay though, right?  He had his excuse.  

     "You think this is bad?  You should have  _seen_ how many times I was tackled at practice yesterday.  Honestly, I'm surprised I was able to walk off that field."  All totally true, but Stiles barely avoided answering the question.  Technically it would sound like it was answered, and Stiles hoped that was the case.  Derek's eyes were on his bottom lip and Stiles couldn't help but lick it in nervousness.  Derek's jaw clenched at the movement, and Stiles willed himself not to do it again.  Derek let the conversation drop, so Stiles took it as him believing the excuse.  Or believing it enough.  Stiles discarded his worry and moved back onto his plan.  

     He was nervous, though.  Now that he was about to do it, it was a lot easier said than done.  His hands were sweating and he was trying not to breathe heavily.  God he wanted to tell him so badly, but he also wanted to run and hide.  He could do this.  He could do this.  

     "Hey. So."  Stiles started.  Derek took a bite of an egg roll and looked at him expectantly. "Can we..uh..can we talk about something?"  Stiles was impressed how he kept eye contact.  He really just wanted to not look at Derek.  What if this failed? No, it wouldn't  he just needed to follow the plan. 

     "Don't tell me you expanded the list of movies I need to see.  The thing is already four pages long."  Derek looked a little put off.  Stiles blushed, nonetheless. 

     "No, no. Not about the list.  Just, uh.  About...us, kinda?"  Derek looked much more confused than he did a moment before. 

     "Us?"  Derek's eyebrows were high on his forehead and Stiles made himself not groan at the adorableness of it. 

     "Yeah.  I mean.  Okay, I can do this.  It's just you, right?"  Stiles tried a smile, but more or less failed.  His nerves were really getting the best of him right now.  "I just.  Okay, so lately I have really been–"

     "Is that Chinese food I smell?"  Oh no.  Oh please please no.   Stiles prayed it wasn't who he was almost positive it was.  Turning in his chair, he was very disappointed to see that Peter was making his way into the loft.  Stiles openly groaned.  "That _is_ Chinese I smell."  Stiles tried not to growl as Peter got himself a plate and fork out.  He was, however, unable to stop Derek from  _actually_ growling.  

     "Peter.  This is for me and Stiles.  What is with you and trying to eat our food?"  Stiles smiled thankfully at Derek.  He looked at Stiles but back at his uncle, jerking his head in an attempt to motion for the man to leave.  He didn't.

     "You never want to share, Derek."  Peter was probably talking about the food, but he was now looking Stiles up and down.  Stiles didn't like it at all.

     "When Stiles buys food for you, you can have it.  But he got food for the two of us, and that is how it's going to stay.  Now leave."  Peter huffed a sigh but put the plate and silverware back into their places.  He didn't, however, leave.

     "Seriously, dude?  Can you get lost?"  Stiles tried to will the desperation out of his voice.  But he was kind of in the middle of confessing his feelings for Derek, and the dude was messing it up.  

     "Calm down, Stiles.  I'm not going to eat the food.  I'm just going to make a cup of coffee and then I will leave you two." The cup of coffee he had mentioned took much longer than Stiles would have hoped.  He tapped his foot impatiently on the barstool while the older werewolf took his sweet ass time making the damn drink. Minutes ticked by and Stiles all but screamed at the guy to hurry up when he practically measured the amount of creamer to put in.  Peter finally seemed content with his drink, but gave a long stare at the two seated at the counter before taking an equally long drink.  With a satisfied sigh, Peter walked out of the kitchen.  

     "Sorry about that," Derek apologized.  Stiles looked at the man and his mind was instantly back to butter.  Butter and nerves. "What were you saying?"  Derek nodded, urging the boy on.  Stiles smiled thankfully at Derek and took a steadying breath before going on.  He could do this.

     "I–"

     "Hey guys!"  You have got to be kidding.  Turning (again) Stiles saw a now very present Scott and Allison walking into the main room.  "I know we are a little early, but no biggie, right?" Scott looked gleeful as he always did while around Allison.  Stiles resigned to putting his head in his hands on the counter.  Fuck.  There goes the plan.  He sighed and tried not to feel too sorry for himself.  A whole day of planning went out the window.  Just like that, and he was back to square one of pining after Derek.  He was trying his best not to yell at Scott for interrupting something he had no clue about, when he felt a pressure against his shoulder.  Looking up, he saw Derek's hand, squeezing reassuringly on him.   His face was mostly blank, but he looked concerned.  He smiled slightly at Stiles.

     "We will talk later?"  Derek asked quietly.  Stiles just sighed and nodded. 

     Okay, so plan A was out the window.  But Stiles could make a plan B, right? And for what it was worth, Derek didn't seem put off by the idea of Stiles talking about whatever he was going to talk about.  Derek knew it concerned the two of them, but in what way, he didn't know.  What if Derek put it together?  What if now he knew how Stiles felt?  There were so many unknowns at that point and Stiles wasn't sure he liked that. He was like his father; he didn't like unknowns.  He wanted all the information so he could solve the case.  Derek was the case, in this instance.  Stiles didn't know if Derek would respond badly to his admission.  Would he laugh in his face? Would he let him down gently?  But what if he already knew?  If Derek already was aware of Stiles feelings, then that changed things.  He certainly didn't laugh or throw him out of the loft.  He told them they could talk afterwards, and he looked really understanding.  Maybe that was good.  Maybe that meant...no there was no way he would admit the same.  Right?

    It was all so  _frustrating._ There was the part of him saying that Derek didn't like him back, but there was also the logical part of him saying it was actually a possibility.  Having Derek like him back was such an intense idea that having to sit through an entire pack meeting before being able to talk about it, was going to be torture.  God he just wanted to tell him _now._ He just wanted find out Derek's feelings  _now._

Stiles sighed again and Derek waved something in front of his face.  Glancing at it, Stiles saw it was an egg roll.  Derek was offering something he usually hoarded completely to himself whenever they ordered from the restaurant.  Stiles' eyebrows raised in question.  Was he sure?  Derek scoffed while rolling his eyes and motioned for Stiles to take the appetizer.  Stiles did so willingly, and took a bite.  

     Yeah, waiting was going to suck.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter is going to be a big one, (I hope it turns out as awesome as it is in my head!) and I had some things to say before updated. Basically, I know how many people thought Isaac finding out about the abuse would be a great way for the story to develop, and I agree, it would be super interesting. However, I have always wanted this particular fic to have Derek be the one to truly discover what has been happening to Stiles. That being said, I wanted to make sure you guys got a little of what you wanted, so I added that scene with Isaac and Stiles after lacrosse earlier. And in the next chapter, Isaac will help push Derek into finding out because of some suspicion. Essentially, Isaac doesn't for sure know what is going on, but he recognizes that Stiles isn't being honest about his bruises and stuff. This way, Isaac isn't in the dark about something he clearly would know a good deal about, and the fic stays true to my original intention! I hope you guys are okay with that, and like that I tried to give a little "Isaac time"! Again, I'm sorry for the wait lately, but I hope the story is still as interesting as it was a few days ago. Let me know any of your thoughts!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you said how you wished the story would progress faster, and hopefully this helped! Also, Papa Stilinski is still a part of this fic, I promise! He may or may not come back in some form next chapter. ;]

     Surprise, surprise, Stiles was right.  Waiting sucked.  He sat on the complete other side of the room than Derek out of necessity, honestly.  He was unstable enough as it was.  He didn't need to be near the man.  He pretended to pay attention to Derek's speech on how he was pleased with everyone's behavior lately considering the new implementations he made only a week earlier.  Stiles did note how he was slightly surprised at Derek's open praise.  The scowling man rarely did such, and the entire room was soaking in the exotic feel to it.  After the brief moment, Stiles was left to focus on anything but Derek.  Which.  Yeah that didn't really happen easily.  Stiles was dying on the inside to just get up kick everyone out.  Why the hell did Peter have to barge in like he did?  The man messed up Stiles' entire plan and now he was stewing in irritation while the perpetrator sat on the other couch, still nursing his coffee with a smug look on his face.  Stiles wished he could slap that coffee out of his hand and just punch the guy.  

     Stiles couldn't tell you how long he was there since it felt like hours, years, lifetimes before the meeting finally ended.  As soon as the closing words were out of Derek's mouth, Stiles was up and halfway across the room.  He couldn't just stay in the loft anymore.  He needed to get out.  He was so frustrated and embarrassed.  Frustrated because he had worked it all out in his head how the night would go, and it didn't pan out that way.  He hadn't gotten to complete the plan, Derek didn't get to respond, and Stiles was just left wondering what would have happened.  Embarrassed because maybe he was just being a pining little idiot.  For all he knew, Derek didn't  _really_ want him.  Or if he did, what if this was the completely wrong way to go about it?  Stiles was in such a rotten mood that going back to his uncle's sounded better than staying.  

     "Stiles?  Could you stay after a minute?  I need to talk to you."  Stiles didn't turn around since he knew the familiar, rough voice.  His shoulders did haunch forward in defeat, however. 

     "Sure."  He didn't even try to come up with a longer answer than that.  The sooner he could get out of making a fool of himself in front of Derek, the sooner he could calm himself down. 

     He made his way back into the main room and tried not to give the exiting pack members any jealous glares. He was feeling more and more stupid for hoping tonight would go well.  When everyone but Derek, Stiles and Isaac were gone, the alpha sat on the couch not far from Stiles but not close either.  He turned his head to Isaac by the door and spoke.

     "Isaac, why don't you go make sure Peter isn't up to anything he shouldn't be."  Stiles looked at Isaac and the boy gave him an apologetic, but stern expression.  Stiles didn't like what he saw.  He suddenly felt like he was in the principal's office and was about to get a punishment.  

     "This isn't about before." Derek began with.  Great.  First a quick reminder about Stiles being a love sick puppy, and then the real talk. "But Isaac talked to me the other night about something that has me..concerned."  Derek was being very..gentle.  This was strange.  

     "Oh? About what?"  Stiles tried to stay calm.  

     "He told me about him helping take some pain from you." Stiles hummed in acknowledgement.  "He said you were in a lot of pain."  

     "Well I did receive quite the beating in that practice we had, so."  Stiles shrugged.

     "That may be, but he said it was more than you should have had.  Even after the intense practice you had."  Stiles' palms began to buzz and he tried not to fall back into the memory of falling down on the glass, again.  "Care to explain?" Derek was being really professional and Stiles didn't like it.  It made him feel less connected with the man.

     "I think Isaac failed to really see how badly I was being hit during practice.  He couldn't have kept his eyes on me the entire time.  Trust me when I say I saw more up close shots of the ground than I wished I had."  All of the things he was saying were true.  He had started to master the art of getting around lying.  He wasn't exactly saying anything false.  He was just twisting it so it sounded the way he wanted it to. 

     "Stiles.  You smell differently than usual."  Stiles stiffened at this.  Oh god, he thought he would be alright on this aspect.  "You have been smelling of..vinegar an awful lot and today you smell even more of it.  Plus there is a heavy scent of medication.  You need to tell me what is going on."  Derek's eyes were still soft but his voice was getting more and more demanding.  More powerful.  More..alpha.  He was confused to what Isaac had told him, and Stiles wasn't helping with it.  Derek was probably angry about not knowing exactly what was going on.  They were alike in that way.  They liked to know everything.  And for a moment, Stiles was..conflicted.  He knew what could happen in the next thing that came out of his mouth.  There were two ways this could go down.  The first being him deny deny deny, and hope it would go away.  He could probably find some way to get out of this.  There were so many times before that he had gotten out of someone finding out about his uncle. Stiles had been here, done this.  But he hadn't been here with Derek.  The man had never really been as close to Stiles as he was in that moment.  The two had never once been important to each other, and now...well he couldn't speak for Derek, but Stiles definitely knew how important the werewolf was to him.  Which was why there was a second option.  He could tell Derek.  As scary as it sounded, and it was  _terrifying,_ it could happen.  Stiles could tell Derek about what his uncle was doing.  And Stiles actually  _wanted_ to tell him.  As crazy as it sounded since Stiles had never once seriously considered telling someone, Stiles was on the verge of actually saying the words 'my uncle beats me'.  Stiles could do this, if he wanted.  He could tell Derek.  Derek could help.  He wanted Derek's help.  He wanted to let Derek in.  

     But he couldn't. 

     Too many voices in his head were telling him it was a bad idea.  Too many instances of denying had ingrained it in his mind.  But maybe this could be the time to break old habits.  

     Ugh, it was just so  _frustrating._ He was so torn up about it and he was terrified of picking either choice.  He could end up screwing everyone over by telling.  He could end up screwing  _himself_ over by not.  This could end what he and Derek had.  This could do so many different things, and Stiles was petrified. 

     "Like I told Scott, vinegar is good for cleaning and my uncle is pretty good about having me scrub the house pretty much every day.  And I have been getting headaches lately.  I have some decent amounts of Advil in my body right now along with Adderall.  I'm not surprised you smell the meds. " Stiles forced a shrug.  He guessed that maybe that night wasn't the night to admit feelings for Derek _or_ the situation with his uncle.  But even if he was denying it now, Stiles wasn't sure he was going to be able to hide this from Derek much longer.  He wasn't sure he was going to  _want_ to.  

     Actually, Stiles already didn't want to.  So maybe it was just a matter of time before he just.... _did._  

     Derek looked down at Stiles' lip and he could feel a light throb on the sore there.  

     "You can tell me anything Stiles.  I'm not saying this as your alpha."  Derek's voice was very calm now.  His intensity had vanished from where it was before. "Okay?"   Stiles tried not to close the distance with Derek in a large hug, and instead willed himself to speak.

     "I know, Derek.  If there was something I needed to tell you, I would.  Thank you for being concerned though." Derek nodded slowly and Stiles got up.  Heading towards the door, he offered Derek a goodnight.  He was halfway out the door when he heard his voice again.

     "Don't be too hard on Isaac about telling me.  He's just looking out for you."  Stiles turned his head and gave a small smile.

     "I know.  He's a good kid. I will only give him the minimum amount of sass and sarcasm.  Scout's honor."  Derek smiled back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.  They both seemed to know there were things being unsaid between them.  Stiles just hoped Derek didn't know how...big those things were.  And honestly, he wouldn't be upset with Isaac.  Thankfully he had calmed down from the mood he was in after the meeting, and Stiles knew Isaac just wanted to help.  His heart was in the right place.  Stiles just would have to be more careful from now on. 

     During the drive home, Stiles tried his best not to focus on the different ways he could come clean to Derek.  He tried even harder not to tell himself to turn around so he could do it right that instant. 

***

     Tom was waiting for him when he got home.  He didn't suspect anything about where Stiles was, but he certainly wasn't happy.

     "I see you left me a note." Tom was holding the letter he left before leaving for school about staying at Scott's house the next night.  Stiles shifted his weight on his feet while he stood in the kitchen looking at the man.  Tom was sitting in the same chair he always was sitting in.  He still looked lucid enough, though.  Maybe he hadn't started drinking heavily yet.  

     "Yes, sir."  Stiles didn't bother telling him what the note said since he had already read it. 

     "Well if you think you're going to get out of chores for the day, you're wrong."  His uncle seemed already irritated about the thought like they had been arguing about it.  Stiles quickly latched onto defusing the situation.

     "No, sir.  I was going to just clean enough tonight so I wouldn't get behind after missing tomorrow."  His uncle seemed to calm down at the idea.  Stiles listed off all the things he could do that night before bed, and his uncle added his own chores.  Stiles was just thankful he was able to do some extra cleaning and not receive new injuries.  If he worked hard enough, maybe he could still get to bed at a reasonable time. 

     Turns out he was wrong about that.

     He worked diligently and as efficiently as he could, but Stiles didn't end up going to bed  _at all._ He had just finished dusting the main floor when his uncle decided to go to bed.  On his way upstairs, he stopped and almost doubled the long list of things for Stiles to get done.  He even added weeding the backyard.  The  _back yard._ Stiles did nothing but nod his head and answer with a polite "yes, Sir" like he knew how to.  He finished dusting, moved on to sweeping, then mopping, scrubbed all but the bathroom in his uncle's room, did the laundry, actually washed the windows, and eventually made his way to the backyard to weed.  The grass was still short from when he cut it earlier in the week, but the weeds were easy to spot.  Well, easy when he used the flashlight on his phone. He spent hours just going over the same places to make sure nothing was missed.  He wasn't exactly sure but his uncle could very quite possibly check the next day and Stiles did  _not_ want the man thinking he skimped out on his duties.  He cursed under his breath at the size of the backyard.  Offhandedly, Stiles hoped none of the neighbors looked in their backyards during the night to see a waving light scanning the ground.  It might beg some interesting questions that even Stiles would have difficulty answering. 

     Stiles finished just as the sun was coming up over the horizon.  He had struggled to stay awake while he was outside, but luckily the cold kept him alert for most of the evening.  It hadn't become freezing or anything, but his fingers were stiff and sore from moving in the chill.  He was shivering as he walked back inside.  Stopping at the kitchen sink, he ran his hands under warm water to get the grass and dirt off his hands.  Some of it was stuck under his fingernails but he would get that later in the shower.  Slowly making his way upstairs, he yawned as he entered his room.  Plugging his phone in, he saw he had no new messages after he told Derek goodnight.  He was just beginning to scrub the floors at that point. Just as he was getting ready to lay down for a glorious hour of sleep, but his eyes fell on his backpack.  Shit.  He had homework.  Stiles was too tired to groan, so instead, he just mindlessly did his assignments.  Actually, he isn't even sure the answers he gave were remotely close to what the question asked, but he got them done.  

     He wouldn't be exaggerating if he said as soon as he put his head down, the alarm on his phone went off for school.  

***

     Stiles didn't even pretend to pay attention once in school.  He vaguely could remember picking Scott up and validating their plans, but how he got to first period was a mystery.  He blinked towards the front of the classroom but after ten minutes, he had fallen asleep.  He didn't wake up until the bell rang, signaling the end of class.  Second period was the same, except he lasted about twenty minutes.  When he fell asleep in third and then fourth period, he couldn't take it anymore.  He got a pass to the nurse and told them one he got there how he was feeling too nauseous to stay in school.  They sent him home with a note to give to his uncle.  Stiles headed towards his jeep, got into the back, sent a text to Scott saying he was just too tired to stay in school but bro night was still on, and promptly fell asleep.

     He woke up to a knocking on the jeep's window.  Glancing to the source of the noise, Stiles locked eyes with a grinning Scott.  His voice was muffled, but clear enough when the boy spoke.

     "Hey, Sleeping Beauty!  Ready to go?"  Scott didn't wait for an answer before he walked to his side of the jeep and got into the passenger side.  Stiles glanced at his phone and saw school had just gotten out.  He yawned but made his way into the front without kicking Scott.  He did, however, let himself shove his butt into the werewolf's very surprised face.  "Seriously, dude?  Do you need to put your ass this close to my face?"  Scott was laughing but squirmed out of harms way.  That of course only caused Stiles for shift closer.  He looked back at Scott with an innocent look.

     "I don't know what you're talking about, man."  Scott all but squealed when Stiles wiggled his butt before plopping down in his own seat.  If it was anyone other than Scott, Stiles would never act in such a weird way.  But this  _was_ Scott.  Bro night was only going to get more childish if the past nights were anything to go by.  The two joked around back and forth while Stiles drove to Scott's house.  Once there, the two kids grabbed their book bags, and Stiles made sure to take the overnight bag he put in the jeep that morning, with him.  Melissa was still at home, but probably about to leave for the hospital since she was working the late shift.  Scott let the two of them inside and they quickly made camp in the living room.  When Stiles had his head stuck in the refrigerator, he heard a light cough come from behind him. 

     "You know, you boys will probably just order pizza.  I don't know why you're even bothering to look in there, Stiles."  He smiled widely at Ms. McCall who was pining her name tag to her hospital scrubs.  

     "You and I both know snacks are always necessary."  Stiles turned to look back into the fridge, but Melissa grabbed his chin and turned his face towards her.

     "Stiles, what did you do to your lip?"  It wasn't really a question as much as it was a demand.  Stiles sighed and lied (again) to someone he cared about (again).

     "Are you really surprised I ended up with this beauty?"  Stiles managed to not even answer the question before Melissa gave up.  She just sighed and shook her head muttering about how accident proned he was. Stiles was thankful the cut on his lip was really only noticeable up close like Melissa had been.  The swelling had gone down considerably and the cut was finally sealing over. It was really only sore if he pressed it hard enough with his tongue. 

     "I'm going to be late, but try to get to bed on a reasonable time tonight, okay?"  She was calling over to Scott in the living room while she grabbed her car keys on the table.  "Goodnight, Stiles.  Goodnight, Scott."  Scott and Stiles both shouted a 'goodnight' and a 'love you' towards the front door before they heard her leave.  Once gone, they both started on homework.  First school, then movies. 

     This was going to be awesome.  Stiles really needed this. 

***

     It was awesome.  

     They had long since finished homework and the two teenagers were beginning their second movie.  This one was "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" since it was Scott's favorite.  Stiles was a little more partial to the third enstallment, but he got to pick the first movie, so he let Scott have his way.  Stiles had texted Derek letting him know about tonight's activities, though he tried not to start up an actual conversation with the man since he would never want to stop.  And this was bro night.  Stiles wasn't about to let someone he had feelings for come between Scott and himself.  He knew what that felt like and it wasn't good. 

     The two of them joked around and threw popcorn at each other.  They single handedly ate two entire pizzas and hadn't even had to leave the room for more than bathroom breaks and paying the pizza delivery man.  It was a lazy success. They had chatted about things they used to before werewolves had complicated things.  They got to talk about past bro nights and vacations they had together and summers spent worrying about lacrosse try-outs and not which enemy they would be facing next.  Stiles brought up the time they were training for first day of practice and Scott had actually taped weights to his chest in order to weigh him down on runs.  He thought it would make him burn more fat if he was pulling more.  And maybe it was good in theory but when the kid flat out duct taped a ten pound weight to his chest and two dumbbells to his hands, it was a little less impressive. He looked flat out ridiculous running down the sidewalk with what looked like two blunt instruments for hands.  Stiles could barely get out the story through the fit of giggles he was having.  It only made it worse when Scott remarked how it was hard to get the tape off when both his hands were covered in the stuff. Stiles had honest to God tears running down his face during the end of the memory. 

     "Seriously, it isn't funny!" Scott was trying to scowl into his bowl of popcorn but was slightly smiling.

     "Scott, it is  _absolutely_ funny!"  Stiles wiped at his eyes and placed a hand to his stomach to try and soothe the ache he received for laughing too hard.  

     The movie ended and Scott let Stiles put in the next one on the list.  As Stiles was scrolling through the menu options, he remembered how they still had to see the new superhero movie that had opened in theaters the other week.  

     "Dude, we totally gotta see that movie we were planning on going to last week! It has been getting killer reviews!"  Stiles was already planning out the night of awesome they could have.

     "Yeah, dude! I would totally see it again!"  

     "Great becau-wait."  Stiles stopped himself before he clicked the play button on the disc menu.  Turning his head, he looked at Scott who was smiling towards him. "See it again?  Again as in, you have already seen it and so going to it with me would be a second time, again?"  Stiles' fit of giggles had all but vanished now that he was realizing what Scott had said.  

     "...yeah?"  Scott answered after a beat.  "Remember?  I told you about it yesterday when you picked me up?"  Stiles thought back to yesterday morning when Scott  _had_ said he had plans that night, but he most certainly did not say what they were. 

     "You said you had plans last night.  You didn't say what they _were_."  Stiles was getting angry now.  Scott had already seen the movie they had been looking forward to going to for weeks.  They had already bought tickets.  Stiles was willing to let Scott cancel on him once, but that was because he at least thought he would reschedule for another night. 

     "Oh.  Well yeah, I saw the movie."  Scott didn't seem to be picking up on Stiles now very sour mood. "It was really great.  You'll love it!"  Stiles started to shake his head.

     "Yeah I thought I would.  I thought I would enjoy it even more when you were sitting next to me, but apparently you have already seen it."  Stiles glared angrily at the screen.  Scott seemed to sense (finally) that Stiles was upset.

     "Stiles, man, I'm sorry.  I didn't think it was a big deal."

     "A big deal?  Scott, you and I were going to see that together.  Ya know?  Like best friends do?  We were planning on seeing it for  _weeks."_ Stiles tried to keep as much anger out of his voice but he wasn't succeeding as much as he wished.  "Now you went and saw it alone and it won't be the same."  

     "If it makes you feel better, I didn't see it alone."  Scott tried to amend. "I saw it with Allison."  

     Stiles wasn't angry anymore.  Or maybe he was so angry that it no longer registered.  

     Not only had Scott seen the movie, the movie  _they_ were going to see, but he had seen it with Allison.  The girl who had officially screwed up their relationship.  Stiles could tell himself (and did) over and over how Allison wasn't replacing Stiles.  Allison would never replace Stiles.  The two of them had been inseparable since the first day they met.  She would never come between them.  Stiles would always be the person Scott hung out with on the weekends and after school.  He would be the one who got into trouble with Scott.  He would be the one who would go see kick ass new blockbuster movies with killer fight sequences about superheroes in spandex.  But now Allison got Scott's attention on the weekend.  And now Scott hung out with Allison after school.  

     Now Scott was going to kick ass new blockbuster movies with killer fight sequences about super heroes in spandex with _Allison_.

     "I hoped I was wrong."  He quietly said to himself.  And he did.  Stiles hoped he was wrong about feeling so left out.  For feeling so separated from his best friend.  Like he didn't matter. But he _wasn't_ wrong.  Stiles was looking at his lap, mood completely ruined.  He tried his best to avoid letting the water gather in his eyes.

     "Wrong about what?"  Scott asked.  He still didn't seem to grasp the whole concept.  He just thought Stiles was upset about him seeing the movie without him.  He didn't get why Stiles was feeling like he was.  Of course he didn't.  If he ever knew how much he was leaving Stiles behind, they wouldn't be in this situation right now. Stiles looked up at Scott, not even hiding the hurt in his face.

     "About you leaving me."  Stiles looked at Scott who had a confused and concerned expression.  He opened his mouth to say something but Stiles got up from the couch before he could speak.  He didn't look back as he walked to the front door and left the house.  He could hear Scott calling after him but it didn't even make Stiles slow down.  If anything, he walked faster to his jeep.  Getting in, he was thankful the thing only turned over twice before roaring to life.  He wasn't sure how much longer he had before the vehicle stopped working.  

     He didn't know what to do.  Staying at Scott's was out of the question.  He was too upset to stay.  Going back to his uncle's sounded equally as awful.  

     His mind fell on the one place where he could go.  As soon as he thought of it, it became more than a possibility.  It became the only thing Stiles wanted. He just needed to get to the loft, and Derek would be there.  He could do this.  Just focus on driving, and not freak out.  He kept blinking away the tears as he drove down the streets.  It was late in the evening so the roads were pretty deserted. Stiles didn't even care that he was speeding a little bit. He just wanted to be with the one person he knew would make him feel better.  God, he just wanted Derek wrap his arms around him and make him forget about everything for just a moment.  Stiles pulled up near the lot and practically ran up the stairs to the metal door.  Pounding on it, it was only seconds before it slid open to reveal a sleepy Derek.  His hair was flat against one side of his head and his eyes were blinking away sleep.  Stiles momentarily remembered how he texted Derek goodnight about an hour ago. 

     "Stiles?"  Derek looked a little confused but was getting closer to concerned as he woke up.

     "Hey.  Do you think I could come in?"  Stiles was trying his best not to freak out and his hands were buzzing angrily.  Rubbing them together, he saw as Derek nodded easily enough and stepped aside to let Stiles in.  Walking past Derek, he padded over to the couch and sat down.  He was calming his breath and Derek sat beside him.

     "Want to tell me what's wrong?"  Derek looked completely awake now, and equally worried. He had placed a hand on top of both of Stiles' to stop their rubbing together.  Stiles looked down at the contact and sighed gratefully.

     "Scott's an idiot."  Stiles tried to sound lighthearted but his voice gave him away.  He ended up just trying to give a small chuckle at the situation and that sounded more like a sob.  Before he knew it, Stiles got his wish from earlier.  Derek had pulled him into a tight hug and Stiles only had a second to give a quite noise of surprise before he leaned into the embrace.  Derek felt warm and strong and  _right._ Stiles immediately felt safe and comforted.  He wrapped his own arms around Derek's firm body and noticed how Derek smelled just like Stiles remembered.  Strong and woodsy, like summer and home.  They stayed in that situation for a few minutes, Derek just rubbing Stiles' back slowly.  After what was probably a decent amount of time, Derek pulled away.  Before Stiles could feel upset for the lack of contact, the alpha spoke.

     "Why don't you stay here for the night."  Derek wasn't really asking as he was gently commanding.  Stiles nodded his head thankfully and relaxed into the couch as Derek left for some blankets and a pillow.   When Derek returned, Stiles noticed how he was dressed in sweats and a plain white shirt.  He looked so at ease like this.  Hair still messy and body still slow from sleep.  This was perfect.  It was everything Stiles knew it would be.  Letting Derek into his life and comfort him felt so right, it was second nature.  He was struck hard with how completely at ease he was with being with Derek.  He knew it wasn't anything of serious nature, but it was like he had what he had been dreaming of for a while now. And damn, if right now didn't make Stiles want to tell Derek more.  He was actually biting his tongue in that moment to stop himself from talking about his uncle.  When Derek leaned over the couch to make it into somewhat of a bed, Stiles lost his train of thought and was suddenly focused on something else. _  
_

     Maybe it was the late evening. Maybe it was how emotionally compromised he was feeling. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was dying to finally do it.  But it didn't matter.  Stiles was tired of waiting or being scared or being scared _while_ waiting.  He wanted to do this.  He _finally_ wanted to show Derek how he felt.  And Maybe it _was_ the lateness, or it _was_ the emotions, or it _was_ the feelings, but every other option seemed to evade him. So Stiles did the only thing he could think of doing in that instant.

     Stiles lunged up from where he was sitting, wrapped his arms around a now surprised Derek and pressed his lips to the werewolf's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Who knew getting ready to move into a dorm could keep a guy so busy!

     He was kissing Derek. 

     Stiles Stilinski was kissing Derek Hale.  

     But Derek wasn't kissing Stiles back.  Actually, Derek pulled away once he seemed to grasp what was going on. Feeling Derek remove his lips from the contact, Stiles opened his eyes to see Derek holding him at arms length with a look on his face Stiles couldn't decipher. Stiles stomach sank. 

     "Stiles."  Derek began.  Stiles cut him off.

     "Oh my God."  He was wrong.  He was so wrong. "I-I'm sorry.  Oh my God I'm so sorry." Stiles all but flailed backwards as he tried to get away from Derek.  The other man tried to say something more, but Stiles knew it wasn't going to be something he wanted to say. "Derek, I'm–oh my god.  I-I'll just."  Stiles was up and off the couch in that instant, all but sprinting towards the door.  Of course Derek wouldn't kiss him back. 

     Stiles thought he heard Derek say something but by that time, he was already half way down the stairs to the parking lot.  Holding his breath, Stiles tried turning on his jeep and the thing sputtered to life after a few failed attempts.  Stiles wasn't sure the thing was going to start at all, but today was his lucky day.  How ironic.  The night had started off perfectly but only went to shit.  Stiles didn't even know where he was driving to.  He didn't even wince when the tires screeched as he tore out of the loft.  Stiles all but broke the speed barrier as he drove in the complete opposite direction.  This was exactly what he was afraid of.  Derek rejecting him.  He had told himself it wasn't going to work but now that he actually knew Derek didn't feel the same, the realness of it sank in and Stiles couldn't even stop some of the tears from spilling over. 

     He didn't even know how he ended up at his actual house, but there he was.  Slowly, Stiles walked up to the front door and unlocked it.  Being back in his own house just made him cry harder.  He knew his father wasn't home and that he had only been there a week ago, but the boy still found comfort of being back in the walls of a place he always knew was home. Making sure to lock the door, shaking hands or not, Stiles trudged up the stairs and made it to his bedroom before the sobs took over. He was tired and sore and hurt.  It could have just been the shitty night, or it could have been the fact that he was just tired of being beaten by his uncle, but Stiles just wanted the noise in his head to stop.  

     He shoved his head into the pillow laying on his bed, and tried to calm his breathing.  He had to flip it onto the other side once the first had become to wet from his tears, but Stiles didn't care.  At times like this, Stiles would text Derek, but that was exactly what he couldn't do.  He kept replaying the moment Derek pulled away over and over again.  Letting out a small scream into the pillow, Stiles tried to calm down enough to rest.  Even if it didn't mean sleep, he just wanted to be peaceful for once. 

     Many frustrating minutes and tears later, he finally achieved that, and fell asleep.  Either that, or his body exhausted itself and collapsed. It didn't matter.

***

     Stiles woke up that next morning a little more numb and a little more level headed.  He still felt just as upset as the night before, but he luckily had some more perspective about the whole situation.  Derek rejected him.  That part was true.   _Why_ Derek rejected him, though, was not clear yet.  Maybe Stiles was a little masochistic for wanting to know why, but that didn't phase him.  Eventually he would have to face the man and find out what happened...but that didn't have to be today.  

     He still had enough time to get ready for the day but Stiles didn't dawdle in getting showered and dressed.  Being back in his own house was helping immensely.  He poured himself a bowl of cereal before heading out for the day.  When Stiles got into the jeep, he noticed he must have grabbed his stuff when he left Scott's because it was in the back seat.  When he thought of that, he also noticed how the boy in question hadn't texted or called him that morning about a ride.  He didn't contact him last night, either, to apologize.  The latter being the reason why Stiles didn't even hesitate in driving to school without even wondering if Scott had a ride. Stiles thought he was on a roll when it came to breaking morning tradition, so he didn't text Derek good morning like usual..even if the reasoning behind that was different than his ignoring Scott. 

     When he got to School, it was surprisingly easy to avoid the werewolf.  Maybe Scott was making his furry butt scarce, but Stiles wasn't complaining.  He was still too hurt and angry to see him.  Stiles didn't see anyone from the pack at all, actually.  Maybe word got out that the two members were fighting.  Maybe three, considering Derek.  

     Wait.  No thinking about Derek.  If he thought about Derek things on top of thinking about Scott things, and Stiles would not be able to function.  Only one disaster at a time, please. 

     When lunch came around, Stiles made sure not to send any texts to any werewolves he wasn't thinking about.  And yes, that logic made perfect sense in his head, thank you.  In reality though, Stiles just skipped lunch all together.  He never found out if Scott was at the table at all, or if he also decided to conveniently not be hungry as well.  When Stiles finished the rest of the school day without any contact from anyone, he had no reservations about skipping out on practice.  It wasn't like he would be playing in the next game, anyway.  So instead, Stiles headed back to his own house.  His actual house.  Maybe even if Stiles wasn't staying alone, he could at least go back home whenever possible.  He did his homework, and did not once think about any so-called best friends or any heart wrenching broody alphas.  Nope, not once. 

     He eventually had to go back to his uncle's though.  The man would know if Stiles arrived later than he normally did, so Stiles made sure to time it right.  Parking on the side of the road and letting himself into the house at the same time he would have if he had actually gone to practice, Stiles told his uncle he was back and went upstairs.  Making sure not to cause any more trouble with the man for at least the night, Stiles only came back down to make dinner.  The meal was quick and uncomfortable, but Stiles managed not to get in any trouble.  He was walking back upstairs, absentmindedly thanking how his bruises were finally no longer horrible.  Well, they no longer felt as horrible as they looked.  He still didn't glance at himself int he mirror if he could help it, but the pain was more or less just a stiffness.  He only felt pain if he actually pressed them or bumped into something.  As he made it to the top of the stairs, his phone buzzed in his pocket.  Believing it was just a text, Stiles kept walking.  When the phone buzzed again, he realized it must be a phone call.  Stiles felt his heart start to pick up a little bit when he thought about who it could be that was calling him.  His mind immediately went to both Scott or Derek (Who he was still not thinking about out of necessity, and no this did not count as thinking. This was...strategic.. _non_ thinking. Yeah.  That works).  Looking at the screen, his feeling of dread was instantly replaced with overwhelming relief.  Answering the call, he placed the phone up to his ear.

     "Hi, Dad."  

     "Hey, kiddo!"  Stiles' father responded from the other line.  Stiles sighed, feeling much better thanks to the sound of his father's voice.  "Sorry I haven't called.  They've got your old man working like crazy over here."  Stiles could hear the tiredness through his father's lightheartedness.  They really  _must_ have been working the man pretty hard if he hadn't called Stiles earlier.  Stiles knew he was busy, and felt no ill feelings towards his dad, and was only happy he  _had_ called.

     "Well that doesn't mean you can cheat on your diet. So you better be on your best behavior."  Stiles only half threatened his father.  Shutting the door to his bedroom, Stiles spread out on his back on top of the bed.  He closed his eyes and the two men began to chat quietly for a few minutes before Stiles' dad needed to get back to work. Eventually the topics spread to his uncle, and Stiles tried to keep it light.

     "So, how's your uncle's?"  His dad asked.

     "Oh, you know, same old same old."  Stiles ignored the truth in the statement.  It  _was_ the same as always.  Unfortunately. 

     "I know you don't want to stay there, Kiddo, but I will be home pretty soon here."  Stiles tried not to think about how "soon" was still two weeks from tomorrow.  He had only been staying at his Uncle's for a week.  One week.  

     "I know.  I just.  I really miss you, Dad."  Stiles was glad his voice didn't sound nearly as wrecked as he suddenly felt.  

     "I miss you, too, Son."  His dad responded at once.  And Stiles knew he missed him.  They were all each other had.  Even if Stiles felt guilty about what he had put his father through.  "I will try and call soon, okay?"  Stiles agreed to the idea quickly enough and the two Stilinski's told each other similar goodbye messages, each saying how they loved the other. Once the phone call ended. Stiles stared at the ceiling for a minute or two.  Getting up off the bed, Stiles decided a drink of water may help clear his head a little bit.  Opening the door, he was met with an angry Tom.

     "Who the hell were you talking to?"  He asked, teeth clenched.

     "Uh, just mad dad, Sir."  Stiles immediately cast his eyes downward.

     "What did you tell him?"  His uncle shoved Stiles in anger and the boy struggled to stay upright at the sudden push.  

     "Nothing, Sir.  We just talked, is all."  

     "You better not have told him anything, Boy!  No one will believe you, you hear me?"  Stiles was shoved again but he still managed to stay standing somehow. 

     "I won't, Sir! I promise!" Stiles put his hands up in surrender, trying to show he meant no harm.  Ironic. 

     "You keep your fucking mouth  _shut."_ His uncle gave a final shove and this time Stiles couldn't stay up.  He felt backwards, head nearly hitting the dresser.  Thankfully he missed it by inches.  Another hit to his head would have been awful.  However, his body wasn't as lucky.  His side was flung into the corner of the furniture and Stiles gave a sharp yelp at the hit.  Sliding downward while his side was still in touch with the piece, Stiles felt as his skin was torn open thanks to the friction. Stiles shot a hand to the injured side, trying to soothe the immediate pain.  His uncle loomed closer and Stiles tried shrinking in on himself: bracing for the next shot.  When another didn't come, he chanced a look.  Instead of another session of kicks or punches, Stiles saw his Uncle walking out the door and slamming it behind him.  Hesitant about not having the confrontation progress further, Stiles stayed on the ugly blue carpet. 

     Lifting up the side of his shirt, he stared down at a very angry looking series of scrapes from where his skin and moved against the edge of the dresser as he fell.  Most of it was just a few torn layers of skin, but parts of it had started to show lines of red; blood breaking the surface where the wood had dug too deep. Placing the shirt back down with a gentle movement, Stiles placed a hand back on the new injury.  Pressing slightly in hopes to alleviate some of the pain, Stiles knew he couldn't go clean the area.  If his uncle was in a dark enough mood to do this, it wouldn't be difficult for him to do something worse if Stiles showed his face. He was more or less confined to his room for the rest of the night.  Even without the idea of cleaning the scratches, Stiles was thankful to have an excuse not to leave the mock safety zone. 

     Wincing as he got up off the floor, Stiles laid back down on the bed.  His fingers itched towards his phone, but he forced himself to still them.  It was times like these where talking to Derek helped most.  But that was exactly what he couldn't do.  Stiles might have ruined him ever being able to do that again.  

     Fuck. 

***

     Stiles finally fell asleep after a very long inner conflict about whether or not he should try and figure out things with Derek.  Deciding he was still not thinking about how much of a mistake he made (and effectively convincing himself that the inner war he had just had was not "thinking about Derek"), he forced himself to put his phone out of reach.  He had started numerous messages only to delete them after halfway through. 

     Friday usually meant a sense of relief but similar to the previous end of the school week, Stiles didn't feel too excited.  Last week it was because he had to arrive at his uncle's that night.  Today it was because he still hadn't talked to Scott as well as he still wasn't thinking about the kiss with a certain werewolf who shall not be named.  He treated his bruises -and now scrapes- and got ready for school in a haze.  Driving was lonely once he really felt the absence of Scott.  He felt bad about fighting with the boy, but not too bad because it only reminded him of  _why_ they were not talking.  Scott had put Stiles to the side too many times and Stiles had finally realized that he wasn't as important to him as he hoped. God, that hurt. 

     Letting himself stare into the inside of his locker a littler longer than he probably needed, Stiles took a few bracing breaths for first period.  He was plenty early for class, but he didn't want to just show up to his seat and wait.  Sighing quietly, Stiles shut the locker door (closing the view he had on crumpled papers and a few candy wrappers).  As the metal door clanged against the rest of the lockers, Stiles jumped when he turned to see Allison standing a foot away from him.  Placing a hand over his heart, he leaned against the wall of lockers.

     "Warn a guy!"  Stiles panted slightly. "It's a little early for scaring people to death, don't you think?"  Allison gave him an apologetic look as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Stiles ignored the flare up of pain he felt on his side.  Even his stomach was still sore with bruises.  

     "Sorry, I didn't try to startle you."  Stiles nodded in acceptance and the two stood there for a moment.  An awkward moment.  Stiles decided he didn't exactly want to wait out his last remaining minutes of before school freedom with the object of Scott's new affections.  He started to turn towards the direction of his first class, but Allison spoke finally. "Stiles?"  He turned. "I just wanted to say that-that I-it wasn't my intention to–I didn't mean for Scott's and my relationship to-to come between you guys."  Allison looked a little flustered as she tried to find the right wording for her thoughts. Stiles was...surprised.  

     Or maybe surprised wasn't the right word.  Allison never had struck Stiles as the type of person who would want to come between two friends.  But he certainly wasn't expectingAllison to say what she had.  Stiles looked at Allison for a minute.  Her eyes looked earnest and even a little watery if Stiles were to tell the truth.  Sighing, he realized he didn't have any ill feelings towards her.  Well, maybe he was a little bitter, but he knew she didn't want Scott to ditch Stiles.  She couldn't help it if she had fallen for the goofy kid.  Stiles sighed.

     "Thanks, Allison.  I know.  And I guess it's safe to say he mentioned what happened?"  Allison looked even more apologetic.

     "I didn't know you guys had planned to see that movie together.  If I did, I wouldn't have suggested it, I swear."  Allison looked eager to explain herself.

     "Allison, it's okay.  I know.  It wasn't your fault.  I don't...blame you for any of this.  You can't help it if you have cute dimples and a killer personality to match.  Scott was screwed the first time he saw you."  Allison blushed slightly and Stiles went on. "The only person I am mad at is Scott.  And I'm not even  _mad._ I'm just...hurt."  Stiles gave a half hearted shrug at the last part, trying to play it off as no big deal.  By the look on Allison's face, he had failed.  

     "I love Scott, but he is a god damn idiot."  Allison said.  Stiles couldn't help but give a small snort of amusement.  

     "Yeah,  yeah I guess he is."  At that, the bell rang.  "I guess we better get to class."  Stiles started to turn, but Allison spoke again.

     "Stiles?  So..you..don't hate me?"  Allison looked nervous, she was even wringing her hands together.  A motion Stiles was familiar with doing. 

     "No, Allison.  I don't hate you.  I never could."  Allison let out a breath of relief and Stiles smiled slightly at her.

     "I hope you guys patch things up."  She offered.  He agreed and the two set off their separate ways.  Stiles thought to himself how it wasn't exactly about 'patching things up' as it was Scott actually realizing what he had been doing to their relationship.  

***

     Stiles spent the rest of his day in a quiet state.  He did his best to pay attention in class, and even sat at the usual lunch table.  Allison smiled at Stiles, and he hoped the answering expression he gave was adequate, but the other's were not as welcoming.  They weren't off putting by any means, but the lunch was awkward.  Scott didn't look up from his food the entire time.  Lydia would cast intense looks between Stiles and the werewolf, but kept her mouth shut.  Jackson rolled his eyes at Stiles when he sat down, but stayed equally silent.  The terrible trio were still being themselves, but even they were a little more subdued than usual.  Danny looked like he was reading, but considering Stiles hadn't seen him turn a page for twenty minutes, he thought the book was probably more of a safety blanket.  Probably didn't want to feel awkward sitting there at a tense lunch table. 

     Lunch ended, thankfully, and Stiles finished the day with a bad taste in his mouth.  And it wasn't from the food he had.  He hated feeling so unwanted by Scott, and having the kid not even look at him the entire time just made him feel worse.  The school day ended and Stiles went to his uncle's without much thought.  He let himself into the house and went straight upstairs, taking his time due to the new scratches on his side.  He did his homework and found himself laying on his bed, just staring at the ceiling.  He still had a few glow in the dark stars from when he was a kid, plastered around the ceiling fan.  Stiles wasn't sure how happy he felt about no longer being as mad with Scott or as upset about Derek.  And he wasn't.  Mad, that is.  He had moved past that.  There was no need in feeling angry with Scott.  Scott felt like he wasn't doing anything wrong with how he was treating Stiles.  And how can you be mad at someone for something they didn't think was wrong?  And as for Derek, well, he knew he fucked up.  He fucked up all the time.  It was just sooner or later that he had done it with Derek, and now that he had, he was just...numb.  

     That was a great word for it.  Numb.  He wasn't angry with Scott or sad about Derek.  He was just numb.  He knew he should be feeling something, but he was just so upset about everything that it had surpassed all other emotions to the point of nothingness.  It was such a frustrating state of being.  He knew. logically, what he was feeling at the time, but it wasn't registering.  He  _knew_ he was feeling hurt about Scott.  He  _knew_ he was anxious and worried and scared and nervous about what he had done with Derek.  

 _He knew how ashamed he was for thinking Derek would want him._  

     But.

     It didn't  _click_ with him.  Maybe he was just too consumed by everything to really feel it.  

     Stiles went to bed early on a Friday night, and couldn't find himself to care. 

***

     Waking up, Stiles didn't feel any different than he had going to sleep.  Maybe that was bad, maybe not. Seeing as it was early on a Saturday (one tends to wake up early if they go to bed early), Stiles wasted no time in leaving the house.  He left a note, reminding his uncle of the 'movie night' previously discussed and walked out the front door. Stiles thought about how he hesitated in leaving the note.  Not because he didn't want to tell his uncle (he didn't have a death wish), but because he wasn't sure he wanted to go to the meeting.  Well, he  _knew_ he didn't want to go to the meeting.  But he hoped he was a big enough person to put aside personal issues for the greater good.  Even if the greater good was a pack of werewolves. Driving around town like he had been doing lately, Stiles took a few more pain meds and tried his best not to feel.  

     He had lunch at a fast food place, and then spent some time in the town library.  Stiles didn't have any books he was interested in reading, but the place was quiet and not busy.   He walked up the stone steps of the building and opened one of the large ornate doors.  The place was a lot more impressive than the town was used to.  It had been a gift from some old rich guy who died decades ago.  He didn't have a family for his fiancees to go to, so he decided to give the city a nice library.  Stiles was actually surprised how nice the place was (which in turn made him wonder how loaded the man was as well).  The entire building was made of a white stone, some of it had accents of grey marble and the whole entrance was surrounded by large pillars.  Stiles was impressed with the building, yes, but it  _did_ look a bit incongruent among the other architecture in Beacon Hills. 

    Inside, the place was equally as impressive.  The place had two levels, accessible by means of many spiral staircases as well as a main set of stairs behind the center counter (which was pretty much right after you walked into the room).  All around were shelves upon shelves of books.  Every few book cases or so, a row of tables were set for people to sit down and read or study.  The place was lit somewhat dimly.  Not too dark to be unable to read, but not too bright that it felt imposing.  Stiles, now that he was really taking in the environment, was considering spending more time there.  He found himself a corner on the second floor and opened a few of the books he had grabbed during his venture.  Nothing in particular, just titles that jumped out at him. Paging through the novels, texts, and encyclopedias, Stiles spent the remainder of his Saturday hidden away from his thoughts and his troubles.  

     All too soon, the time came where he needed to head to the loft.  Walking down to the main floor, he was interrupted as he passed the main desk.

     "Read anything of interest?"  Stiles turned and sighed as he laid eyes on Peter.  He was leaning against a pillar, paging through a book.  Probably a novel telling him ways to get away with murder.  

     "What are you doing here, Peter?" Stiles crossed his arms and eyed the man.  Peter snapped the book shut and set it on the marble counter as he made his way towards Stiles. Stiles didn't like the way he practically stalked over. 

     "Reading, of course.  Why are  _you_ here?"  He looked smug.  Surprise, surprise.  Stiles sighed.

     "Reading, of course.  Shouldn't you be at the loft?"  Stiles didn't exactly wait for an answer as he turned away from the man.

     "I would be, meeting and all that, but my nephew has been simply _insufferable_  the past few days." Stiles tried not to think about why. "You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?"  Looks like the whole 'not thinking about why Derek was in a bad mood lately' thing wasn't going to happen.  Thank you, Peter.

     "I don't know, so." Stiles didn't even try to hold a conversation with the man.  The good part of him wanted to ask if Peter needed a ride over to the loft (it was about four blocks from the library), but the bad part of him said 'fuck it' and didn't offer.  Almost as though he was reading his mind, Peter spoke.

     "I would ask for a ride, but I think I would like to walk.  Give myself a little fresh air."  Stiles was going to give him a sarcastic comeback, but the older man winked at him, and Stiles found himself just wanting to leave.  Which he did. He sped walked down the entrance stairs and got into this jeep.  Once again waiting for the thing to actually work, Stiles left the library after the fifth try.  Peter successfully creeped him out enough that he didn't even think about the meeting until he was actually walking into the loft. Up until then, the drive over was spent by Stiles trying to get the image of Peter winking, out of his head. But now that he was standing in a room filled with the pack, Stiles was abruptly brought into the present. 

     Seeing Scott sitting on the couch, carefully not looking at Stiles, and Derek standing in front of everyone else, watching Stile with a blank expression on his face, Stiles' heart sank.  The numbness was still there, but now he was understanding how sad he was over the whole situation.  He didn't have his best friend and he had begun to think he ruined what he and Derek had, permanently.  

     The others had apparently been waiting for him to show up before starting, so Stiles slowly sat down on an empty spot next to Isaac and Erica.  

     The meeting began. 

***

     The more the meeting went on, the more Stiles wanted to leave.  Derek had began speaking and as soon as he heard his familiar voice, Stiles had to refrain from bolting right then.  Stiles kept his eyes off the alpha the best he could, but he couldn't stop from looking over at Scott.  The other boy had kept his own eyes downward for almost the entire meeting.  Though at one point, Scott did look up at Stiles.  He gave the Stiles a concerned look, but Stiles realized he didn't need Scott to be worried.  He needed  _him._ He needed his best friend to  _be_ his best friend.  Stiles looked away from the boy, and didn't glance at him for the rest of the meeting. 

     Midway through the meeting, Peter showed up saying, "Thank you for waiting."  Which only was scoffed at by most of the pack.  Derek hadn't even broken pace. 

     Finally it ended.  The group started to disperse.  The terrible trio left for mini golf. Allison gave Stiles and Scott a few glances, and saw that there wouldn't be any mending of relationships that night.  She asked Scott if he wanted to go get some food, and the boy quietly agreed after a pause. Jackson and Lydia left, but gave no indication of where they were going.  Stiles started to follow out after the duo, but Derek asked for him to stay.  Turning around but not moving from his place, he clenched his jaw.  The loft was empty  except for Derek standing near the couch and Peter sitting in a chair close by.  Derek looked at his uncle with a stern look.  Peter just sighed.

     "Alright, alright.  I'll go.  You two are no fun."  With that, he left the loft, closing the metal door loudly behind him.  The silence afterwards was pounding in Stiles' ears.  Stiles Looked at Derek, who still had the blank expression on from before.  Stiles heart was slamming in his chest and he was trying to ignore the buzzing in his palms.  This was going to be awful.  He really did not want to do this.  He knew how much he fucked up; he didn't need Derek reminding him how much he screwed up their friendship with his feelings.  

     "Stiles," Derek began. 

     "No. You don't have to say anything." Stiles stopped Derek in his tracks.  He wanted this to be over.  "I know I fucked up, okay? We had a great thing going and I had to go and mess it up.  I had to completely wreck and and now you probably don't even want to be in a room with me anymore."  Stiles hung his head and made his hands into fists, hoping it would stop the feeling in them. 

     "Stiles," Derek tried again.

     "Look, I can't help it, okay?  I just.  I really like you and I know I shouldn't be telling you this because I am just digging myself a bigger fucking hole, but I do. I do, okay?"  

     " _Stiles._ " Derek didn't sound happy.  Great.  He was making this worse. 

     "And I get that you don't like me, alright?  It is painfully obvious.  I totally understand why, and stuff, though.  I mean.  You're a kick ass alpha werewolf with muscles and facial hair and are super brave and strong and amazing and I'm......me." Stiles sighed and looked up.  Somewhere between the beginning of the conversation and then, Derek had ended up much closer to Stiles.  If he reached out, he could probably touch him.  But Stiles probably shouldn't do that. He made sure to not look Derek in the eyes.  He didn't think he could handle that.  His own eyes were starting to swim a little bit from tears gathering. 

      "And you're you."  Derek repeated.  And yup, that was it.  That was all Stiles needed to hear for his heart to sink even lover.  After all of Stiles reasoning and hatred towards himself, he must have had _actually_ held onto a piece of hope that he was misinterpreting everything somehow.  That  _maybe_ it would still work out. But now that Derek had agreed with what he said, Stiles lost the hope he didn't know was there a moment ago. 

      "Yeah.  Exactly...so....sorry."  Stiles turned on his heel and took off for the door.  He made it all of three steps before a hand caught his arm and turned him around. Spinning to see the werewolf, Stiles couldn't even speak before Derek crushed his lips to Stiles' own.  Too surprised to actually move, Stiles' brain and heart simultaneously short circuited as Derek kissed him.  Pulling back slightly, Derek smiled.

     "And you're you."  The alpha said quietly.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep coming up with new fics. This is an issue. ;]


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for fluff! All of the fluff. Like, lots of fluff. Did I mention fluff? Well there's fluff. Love the comments, guys! Thank you so much!

     Stiles could barely process what was happening.  He had come to Derek's loft with the intent on never even approaching what had transpired between the two of them.  He was perfectly (un)happy to leave his complete fuck up behind them.  But what he was  _not_ expecting was to be standing in Derek's living room, pressed up against the werewolf, and being kissed.  Though he did expect Derek to have soft lips.  

     He was definitely not wrong about that part.  When Stiles had actually realized what was going on, he gave a relieved noise in the back of his throat, and kissed back.  He didn't shove his tongue down the alphas throat, of course.  But he let himself finally give in and actually  _kiss_ the man, properly.  Until that moment, the only kiss between them had been a fleeting moment a few nights prior.  And it didn't end on the best terms, either.  Stiles was going to enjoy this dammit, and he was going to make sure Derek had fun as well.   _  
_

     But before he let himself get too carried away, he knew he had to stop and figure out what the _hell_ was actually going on between them. Besides the obvious.

     "D'rek" Stiles mumbled between kisses.

     "Hm?"  Derek returned.

     "I don't-get-this" Stiles continued, speaking only in the breaks from Derek's lips.

     "You seem-to be-grasping-it pretty-well." Derek mirrored Stiles.  This wasn't going to get him anywhere.  As much as it pained him to do so, Stiles forced himself to lean away from the very kissable alpha in front of him.  Stiles tried not to focus on the now pouting Derek.  Instead, he tried to remember why he had stopped the kissing. 

     "I didn't think you were...interested."  Stiles mumbled.  Now he that he was actually talking, he started to regret it.  He was doing just fine a second ago, and now he was basically asking Derek to reject him and come to his senses.  Derek just shook his head.

     "I wasn't.  At first."  Stiles took a step back and dropped his arms from where they were around Derek's neck.  Not to lose the closeness, Derek wrapped his own arms around Stiles' waste, pulling him in. "Let me finish."  Stiles willed himself to look into the eyes of Derek.  They were still as confusing as ever.  Not quite blue, not quite green, not quite brown.  The hazel just left Stiles wondering how long he could spend trying to decide on a color. "You were loud and sarcastic and annoying." Stiles felt himself stiffen, bracing for the upcoming words.  Maybe this was another mistake Derek had made. "But then you were loyal and strong and...and amazing."  Stiles was still not quite sure of what Derek was saying. The werewolf walked backwards, steering Stiles with him, and the two made it to the couch.  Falling backwards, Derek pulled Stiles down next to him.  Looks like kissing was off the table for the moment...and hopefully _just_ for the moment. "You put yourself in danger for every single member of the pack.  For me.  I have never seen a human more willing to fight a wolf.  I'm not sure I have ever seen a  _wolf_ so willing to fight a wolf.  You figure out the puzzles.  You find the missing information I have been searching for.  You solve the riddles no one else can.  Stiles, you're amazing."  Derek was cupping the side of Stiles' face.  His eyes were warm and gentle and  _welcoming._ Stiles wasn't used to this side of Derek.

     Or maybe he was.  After all, he had been noticing the difference in the man for a long while now.  Even before they had started hanging out.  It was small at first.  Derek had stopped threatening to rip out Stiles' throat.  Then he wouldn't shove Stiles into walls or furniture.  He stopped glaring at Stiles with actual venom.  He began to brush against him without any fuss.  He would sit next to Stiles.  He would  _talk_ to Stiles.  They started hanging out.  They  _texted._

And over the time, including before they Stiles had considered them friends, Derek had stopped being the closed off man he met.  He was grumpy and scowly, yes. But he was not unapproachable.  He was...comforting. 

     "Stiles?"  Derek's eyebrows were drawn together slightly.  Stiles must have been thinking more than he thought.

     "So..I'm not loud or sarcastic or annoying anymore?"  Stiles quirked up one side of his mouth in hopes to lighten the mood.  He was still so shocked Derek could actually go for him.  

     "No, you are.  But I like it."  Stiles eyes focused on Derek instantly, almost intensely.  "What?"  Derek asked.

     "You like my loudness and sarcasm and annoying..ness?"   _You like me?_ Stiles thought.  Derek nodded.

     "I do." Stiles let the admission hang in the air for a moment, contemplating it. Derek continued, though. "I like..I like more than that, though."  It was Derek's turn to drop his gaze.  His hand had left Stiles' cheek and was instead grasping his other hand in a tight embrace.  Derek looked...nervous. "I like.." Derek trailed off.

     "....me?" Stiles was thankful Derek had werewolf hearing because he wasn't even sure he said the word, it was that quiet. 

     "You."  Stiles felt his heart starting to pick up in pace when he saw how Derek's cheeks blushed.  When Stiles was yet to say anything, Derek too hold of his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.  Forcing himself to think, Stiles spoke.

     "But what about the other night?"  Stiles didn't want to say how he had kissed Derek but the man had pulled away.  That sounded too...heartbreaking.

     "I'm sorry.  I just thought you were upset and not thinking clearly."  Derek's blush deepened. "I thought you were just upset about Scott and kissing me was going to help you ignore it."  It was Stiles' turn to squeeze Derek's hand at that moment.  Derek fixed his eyes on Stiles and waited patiently for Stiles to actually speak.

     "I was upset, yeah."  Stiles voice was quiet. "But I wasn't kissing you out of anger with Scott.  I was kissing you because I had been wanting to for a long time now."  Derek's eyes widened slightly. Stiles made himself continue.  "Derek, I have had...feelings for you for a while.  And I was going to do something about it they day I brought over Chinese food, but Peter showed up." Derek's wide eyes narrowed at the admission of Peter.  Stiles tried not to grin with happiness over the fact that Derek was upset Stiles wasn't able to make a move. "I have been so tired of not having control in my life lately and I finally wanted to do something that  _I_ wanted.  And fuck, Derek I want you so bad."  Stiles let himself chuckle at the dramatics of his admission.  But it was true.  He wanted Derek so badly and it was more than just sexual. "I mean, you're clearly hot as both literal and metaphorical hell, but it's more than that."  Stiles took a breath, calming the rest of his nerves. Derek smiled quietly next to him, encouraging him to continue. "God, Derek I feel so good with you.  I feel so at ease.  So comfortable. _"_ Stiles smiled shyly at Derek.  "You're so brave and selfless and funny, yes Derek you're funny, and gentle.  Okay yeah you're really intimidating, but you  _are_ gentle." Stiles rolled his eyes when Derek started to huff about being called gentle.  "Derek, I am happiest when I'm with you.  God, my entire life is so fucked up but you are the one part where I don't get confused.  I know how I feel about you, and I know how badly I want to be _with_ you." Stiles forced himself to stop.  He had already said more than he had planned on. Derek blinked at Stiles, mouth hanging open just slightly.  Stiles tried not to fidget while he waited.  He wasn't regretting saying all of that, but he just wished Derek would respond quicker.  Thankfully he did.

     "You're not..intimidated?  That I'm a werewolf.  An alpha?"  Derek looked legitimately concerned and Stiles all but snorted in response.  Which only made Derek look more confused. 

     "I literally just confessed my feelings for you, and that is what you need to ask?"  Stiles shook his head in affection. "No, I am not intimidated.  Well, don't get me wrong.  You're wolfy self is pretty intimidating when you want it to be but I am totally used to it.  I have been surrounded by werewolves for a long long time now.  And the alpha thing? Okay.  This..may sound weird. But."  Stiles opened his mouth only to close it a few times.  He couldn't find the wording for what he wanted to say.  Finally he just gave up and said it. "But it makes me feel...the opposite of intimidated.  I feel..assured.  I feel so damn safe, Derek.  So protected by you. God, I love that your my alpha."  Stiles dropped his gaze and knew he was blushing something fierce.  Since he wasn't looking at Derek, he missed how the man's eyes had shifted to red at the admission.  He didn't know how Stiles' words had made Derek preen with pride and affection.  He had made Stiles feel safe.  He mad his pack member feel protected.  He didn't scare Stiles.  So it was because Stiles wasn't looking at Derek that he was surprised when suddenly he was very much kissing him again. Stiles didn't care though.  He was kissing Derek and Derek was kissing him.  

     His lips were soft.  Which is normal, but compared to the overall firm, muscular rest of Derek, Stiles was pleased to see at least some part of the alpha wasn't made of steel.  The lips gave under the pressure of Stiles' own.  Intoxicated by it, Stiles took a chance and traced his tongue lightly over Derek's.  If the moan Derek let escape from his mouth or the tongue action Stiles received were anything to go by, it was a good decision on Stiles' part. Letting go of his grip, Stiles sucked gently on the now slightly swollen lip.  Derek ran his fingers through Stiles' hair and it was Stiles who let out small groans this time.  Breaking apart, Stiles forced himself to stay on tack. 

     "Not that I don't enjoy what is going on, because  _man I do,_ but I kinda just professed my affections for you...and you haven't really said what you want with" Stiles let himself trail off as he waved a hand between them.  

     "I...like you."  Derek wasn't good with words; what else was new? "And I'm not great at relationships," Stiles' mind went to Kate, and felt himself have a flare of anger towards the woman.  She had hurt Derek and it absolutely tore Stiles apart to know that. "but I think...I  _know_ I want one.  I want one with you.  If..if you want it, too."  Derek was mumbling at the end, seemingly nervous.  Stiles sat, just staring at Derek.  He was so completely shocked this was happening.  He was actually having the chance at a relationship with Derek.  He  _actually_ liked Stiles.  Stiles wasn't sure he could be happier than he was in that moment.  Lunging forward, Stiles flung himself into Derek, messily kissing the man.  They got a little tangled up in the blanket draped on the couch, but neither acknowledged it. They just let themselves get lost with each other.  Eventually though, Derek pulled his lips gently away from Stiles, who had all but become mesmerized by Derek. Somehow the stubble didn't hurt. It actually felt good when the scratchiness was combined with the softness of his kisses. "I take it, you're okay with it?" Derek chuckled, arching an eyebrow.  Ugh, those eyebrows.

     Derek looked amused, but Stiles could tell he was actually wondering.  Derek didn't want to do anything Stiles didn't want to do, as well. But more than that, Derek was still worried Stiles wasn't interested.  

     "Derek, I want to be clear here.  I want you.  I want  _this."_ Stiles hoped he set the wolf at ease, and he must have, because Derek visibly relaxed.  HIs eyes softened even more and his smile grew on his face.  

     "I want this too, Stiles.  I want  _us."_ It was Stiles' turn to smile now.

***

     Stiles still had about an hour before he needed to be back with his uncle.  He spent the time curled up next to Derek, making sure they kissed every thirty seconds or so.  In the back of his mind, Stiles wondered if it was a little off putting to be this enthralled, but Derek didn't seem to mind.  If anything, Derek seemed to be as eager to continue kissing as Stiles was. And Stiles was...pretty eager. 

     Stiles shouldn't have been surprised when they were interrupted.  Either Peter had been more quiet than usual, or Derek had just been to engrossed in what he was doing to hear him (Stiles was certainly too busy to notice when the other werewolf came in), but the two were brought to a very sudden halt in their tongue party when Peter cleared his throat. They instantly separated, and Stiles could feel the blush on his cheeks rise.  He could see that Derek blushed slightly as well, but he looked more irritated than embarrassed.  

     "Can we help you, Peter?" Derek asked dryly.

     "I see you two are..getting close." Peter smirked.  He let his eyes fall on Stiles, and stared him up and down.  Which was creepy.  And you know what?  That was it.  Stiles had had enough of Peter's creepy vibes.  He was sick of listening to the werewolf give subtle jibes about  _whatever_ he was jibing about.  Stiles wasn't even sure what he was _getting at_ most of the time.  All he knew is that Peter was constantly...flirting(?) with Stiles.  And it was not okay.  It had never been okay.  It had always made Stiles uncomfortable and now he had just gone too far.  Stiles was not something Peter could continuously eye-bang.  Which is just gross in itself. 

     "Seriously? What the hell is your deal?" Stiles snapped, looking at Peter.  The man just put on a confused expression.  Stiles knew better. "Don't give me that innocent look.  You have been creeping me the hell out for a long time now and I am _sick_ of it. I don't know what the hell you're playing at or what you're trying to do, but I am  _not interested."_ Stiles gasped for air at the end of his little tirade.  He was glad to get that off his chest, and he took a tentative look to Derek, who seemed to be a mix between proud of Stiles and mad at Peter.  The werewolf in question, however, looked completely amused.

     "Well it is about time."  Peter looked like he was about to laugh, he was so smug.

     "What are you talking about?" Stiles quipped.  He was still angry, and his irritation was still seeping into his voice.

     "You don't need to act so upset, Stiles.  I never had any intention of pursuing you.  You're...not my type."  Peter shrugged.  And Stiles wasn't upset about that, he wasn't, but he  _was_ confused as to why in the world Peter would be acting the way he had been. "Not that you aren't appealing."  Peter added when Derek started to growl lightly. 

     "Then why the hell have you been so damn  _creepy?"_

     "I thought if  _someone_ put a move on you, my nephew would finally pull his head out of his ass, and do something about the infatuation he has for you." Peter sauntered over to where the two of them were sitting, and plopped down into the chair near by.  

      _"What?"_ Derek seemed to decide growling wasn't enough.  He had finally spoken.

     "Really, you two are so  _blind."_ I knew you had an interest with this boy, and it would only take a very obtuse person to not see the feeling was mutual." Peter rolled his eyes. "I thought it would be appreciated if I just...pushed a little bit."  Peter yawned, covering his mouth with one of his fists. "And it worked.  I will take credit for this, but you don't need to thank me.  Having you two stop being so painfully awkward around each other will be thanks enough."  

     "You mean to tell me, that you being so damn  _creepy_  was some plot to make us.." Stiles trailed off, trying to grasp it.  Peter sighed.

     "You are almost as bad as Derek.  Yes.  Every time I was flirtatious, Derek would get jealous.  Don't deny it, nephew, we all can remember how upset you got when all I wanted was some food from Stiles.  You almost ripped my throat out."  Derek didn't look amused.  Stiles thought back to what Peter was talking about.  When stiles had been eating the left over pasta he made for Derek, he had snagged a few bites.  Derek was upset, but when Peter had used the same fork Stiles had been, Derek really god mad.  He kept insisting that the food was only for the two of them.  That happened again when he got Chinese food.  Huh.  Stiles hated to admit it, but Derek  _did_ get jealous.  

     "That didn't make anything happen, Peter." Stiles said. "It just made me weirded out and Derek irritated.  We made the move. Not you."  Peter shrugged, saying he didn't see it that way.  Heading upstairs, he winked at Derek, and Stiles was the one who was almost growling.  That guy was just so weird. "You're uncle is so.."  Stiles couldn't find a good way to end that sentence.  Derek huffed in agreement, and turned to Stiles. 

     "Where were we?"  Derek brought a hand up to Stiles cheek, and gently brushed his fingers across the skin.  A whisper of a touch.

     "I cannot believe you actually just said that.  No one says that.  And you just said that."  Stiles leaned into the touch, smiling.  Derek honest to God smiled back.

     "Shut up, Stiles."  Stiles followed the order, but he did so by silencing himself by means of Derek's lips.  He made himself pull away though, thoughts going through his head.  Derek almost whined at the loss of contact.  Stiles tried not to let it send shivers down his spine.  He failed. 

     "Look.  I want to keep going.  I really want to keep going. But your uncle is here and I have to go."  Stiles heard his voice fall at the end of the admission.  He didn't want to go back to his uncle's.  Derek leaned in quick enough to give a chaste kiss.  Pulling back, he spoke.

     "You're right.  But I hope you know this isn't going to end here.  I am planning on continuing this.  Soon."

     "Yes, please." Stiles took the chance and crushed his lips to Derek's.  It was messy, but it conveyed all of Stiles' want.  And there was a lot of want. Pulling away a little breathless, Stiles looked at Derek.  Taking in his appearance.  A little dazed, and lips plump and red from the kissing.  Stiles smiled.  Not to leave without a little more of a tease, Stiles quickly caught Derek's bottom lip with his teeth during another kiss, and bit slightly.  Pulling it, Stiles sucked on the soft tissue a little bit.  Derek groaned and Stiles released him from his teeth's grip. "Just a preview." He said coyly.  Derek's eyes flashed red for the briefest moment and Stiles groaned.

     "No fair.  That was way hotter than it should have been."  Derek looked confused and ducked his head away from Stiles.  "What?"  Stiles asked.

     "You...liked that?"  Derek asked, sheepishly.   Stiles blinked at Derek for a moment, not understanding. "I didn't mean to show my eyes.  Sometimes it just..happens."  Stiles was the one to be confused now.

     "Why?"  

     "If I get...excited."  Oh god.  "I figured it would be weird.  I can try to control it if you want."  Derek tried, sounding very worried.

     "No! No.  Don't try to do that.  I..yeah, I like it."  Derek looked skeptical. "I like seeing your wolfy side enjoying this, too.  That way I know you..actually..ya know, like me."  Stiles looked down at his hands.

     "Stiles, I like you.  My wolf likes you.  It's a package deal." Derek pulled Stiles chin up with a gentle hand, and looked him in the eye.  "But you're really okay with it?"  He looked concerned.  

     "Yeah.  I do.  I...I just really like it, okay?" Stiles was a little embarrassed.  But something about Derek showing his wolf side to him just..worked for Stiles.  It showed how much Derek let go with him.  How much he trusted him.  Enough to show a side of him that was so deeply personal.  It was so attractive and arousing to know he could be that type of person for Derek.  The eyes flashing just made Stiles feel more..cared for. Made him like Derek more.  

     "...I'm glad." Derek said softly.  He seemed relieved, and this time it was Stiles who planted a quick kiss. Groaning, Derek pulled away instead. "You were right, though.  Peter is upstairs and you  _do_ need to get back to your uncle's."  Derek looked unhappy about it, which only made Stiles want to stay more.  But he needed to get back.  He couldn't be late.  

     "But I can see you tomorrow?"  Stiles asked hopefully.  Derek's eyes were soft, and his lips quirked upwards.

     "I'd like that." He murmured.  Stiles sighed in relief.  With one last kiss (So Stiles had found a new favorite past time. So what?), the both said goodnight, and Stiles left.  

     Driving back to his uncle's, Stiles was too happy and too full in his heart to care about where he was headed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! A few things. First off, YAY for Peter not being up to evil deeds! He was actually playing matchmaker...in his own creepy way. I never wanted Peter to be the bad guy in this fic. He is strange and creepy, but ultimately a good guy in this universe. SO, you may be wondering what one of the tags has to do with the story, if it isn't about Peter. Hm....guess you will have to wait to find out. 
> 
> NEXT.I feel so bad about how posting has been lately! I didn't know getting settled in college would do this. I sincerely hope my schedule will let me write more. I know how bad it sucks when a fic you're reading doesn't update regularly. But I also know I will never post something I do not think is my best quality. So sometimes it might be a little longer wait for the next chapter. I hope that doesn't stop you from reading! :/ I just really want to make sure it's good.
> 
> Also...did you ever hear the expression "the calm before the storm"? Hm....


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really got into this chapter. I had a ton of fun writing it, and considering I stayed up until 2:30AM writing it, there might be a few more errors than usual. I tried to re-read it, but I probably missed stuff. So sorry in advance for my mistakes! BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT SINCE IT HAS A REALLY BIG ENDING. You'll have to tell me what you think. Also, I have a little bit of an announcement in my notes after this chapter. ;]

     Stiles went to bed that night with the largest smile he had ever had.  His cheeks were actually sore from the damn grin.  He had spent a majority of the night on the phone with Derek, whispering as quietly as he could.  He didn't want to wake up his uncle but he couldn't  _not_ talk to Derek.  The other man seemed to be as equally interested in talking.  They stayed up until Stiles was quite literally falling asleep mid sentence.  When Stiles woke up the next day, his phone was still set next to his ear.  Pulling it from his skin, and trying not to notice how the screen was sticking to the side of his face, Stiles saw there was a message.

     " _You fell asleep.  Goodnight, Stiles."_ Stiles felt that damn smile creep back onto his face again. 

     Getting ready that day was actually easy.  He was still running on a high from finally telling Derek about his feelings, and more importantly, Derek _admitting his own._ He didn't even care when he had treated his bruises.  If anything, he worked harder on them.  The sooner he got rid of them, the sooner he could do things with Derek that required less clothing.  And more kissing.  

     The marks on his body were still there, though.  His stomach was still the nastiest it had been, and that's considering a good deal of the swelling and colors had dulled considerably.  They had been downright awful for the first few days.  He couldn't put a shirt on without feeling some kind of pain.  At least now he could press a hand to his abdomen without yelping.  Most of the pain was bearable, just an ache if he moved too quickly.  He was thankful his appetite had not stayed gone too long.  He was eating regularly, but if he got a little too carried away, he would find himself with a terrible stomach ache.  He even once woke up late in the evening with horrible cramps in his stomach.  They only stopped after they made him throw up in the bathroom, half an hour later. Making sure to run the tooth brush and vinegar over the area dutifully, Stiles finally put the instruments away and walked somewhat stiffly downstairs.  He expected to be a more sore after scrubbing so hard.  But it didn't matter.  He would gladly take more pain if it meant he would be able to be with Derek more.  And yeah, he could be with him whenever, he supposed, but he didn't want to just kiss in Derek's loft.  He wanted more.  And as he thought before, those things he wanted to do would mean he would have a considerable amount less of his clothing.  Like, void of it all together, actually.  And Derek couldn't see him with the bruises.

    It wasn't like that was  _all_ Stiles wanted to do, though.  God, no.  He wasn't looking at Derek as a piece of meat.  Even if he was a  _fine_ specimen.  Stiles saw so much more than an attractive person.  Derek was beautiful in his soul.  He was so amazing and Stiles wanted to delve into his mind in hopes to discover new sides of him yet to surface.  He could spend hours upon hours just talking with the man.  He wanted to know what else he liked to do.  What other restaurants were on his list of favorites.  What his favorite book was.  Stiles wanted to know about his family before the fire.  Were his parents strict?  Did he have to share a bedroom?  What was it like to have siblings?  Did they ever go on summer vacations?  There were so many parts of Derek that Stiles was blind to.  And after seeing only a handful in the past while, Stiles was desperate to know more.  He wanted to make Derek feel like he could  _tell_ him.  To open up to Stiles.  

     Stiles wanted to be there for Derek.  It was such an automatic feeling, now.  It crept up on him at first, as did Derek.  But now he knew how badly he wanted to Derek feel cared for.  To feel  _loved._ Too long had Derek been without someone who truly cared for him.  And Stiles wanted to be the person who ended that pattern.  Derek deserved it.  

     Without knowing it, Stiles must have left the house and gotten in his jeep.  After his usual failed attempts, he was driving down the roads of Beacon Hills.  The day was a little warmer than Stiles preferred, but like everything that morning, he didn't mind.  He just let himself soak in the breeze that was engulfing the inside of his jeep. Tapping his hands against the steering wheel and humming, the idea came to him.  And once it was there, Stiles knew what he had to do.  Turning the jeep around in the opposite direction, Stiles started to drive to his new destination.  

     The drive was shorter than he remembered.  Maybe he had been closer to the cemetery than he realized.  Shutting his jeep off, Stiles sat near the front gate, listening.  The wind blew into the open window, bringing in the noise of rustling leaves from trees bending with the air.  A few birds were singing quietly in the distance.  Getting out, his feet crunched on the gravel leading to the entrance.  The entire place was kind of run down.  Or maybe not run down, but at least..unpopular.  The area wasn't untaken care of by any means.  It was just nothing fancy.  A gravel road divided the land into a few lanes, allowing visitors to drive closer to their loved ones if they preferred.  The grass was a little long, but a deep green: healthy and full of life.  Most of the stones marking the land were shining in the sunlight, reflecting slightly warped versions of his body as he walked by.  Almost like the others were acknowledging his presence in the area.  A few oaks were growing throughout the plantation as well.  They had yet to grow to adulthood, similar to stiles, but they were large enough to cast shade around the cemetery; giving much needed shade when the sun was too strong.  The day was hot, yes, but Stiles didn't think he would need to take a break in the coolness.  Making the familiar walk through the land, Stiles saw that many of the graves had fresh bouquets near them.  Which made Stiles think how ironic the place was during that moment.  He was walking amongst the dead, but the land seemed..alive.  With the breeze moving across the earth, the trees swayed with lazy ease.  The leaves shaking were adding background static which was similar to a hushed crowd.  A cemetery's inhabitants talking with one another.  The flowers leaning against the stones were not wilting, they were not dry.  They were blooming brightly, showing life still is present with those who have gone.  He felt at ease in this cemetery.  Which brings in the irony.  Should he not feel an emptiness?  Should he not feel the weight that seemed to accompany the mentions of deaths and final resting places?  

      Part of Stiles wondered why visits like this had to use the word "grave" when talking about where a person was laying for good.  There was nothing  _grave_ about this. Not today.

     Maybe it was about perspective.  Or the context.  Or the  _time._ Everything was determined by outlying factors.  If he came any other day, and under any other pretenses, maybe he would be sad.  Maybe he would shuffle towards his ending point instead of strolling.  Maybe the leaves wouldn't be a welcoming chatter.  They could be a dark warning.  The flowers could be losing petals, and paling in the sunlight.  But this wasn't a somber moment.  He was going to talk to his mom.  He missed her, yes, but in this moment (in a cemetery full of life), Claudia Silinski was still very much alive.

     Walking up to her plot, Stiles sat down on the soft earth.  Crossing his legs, Stiles let his fingers twine through the blades of grass. The Name carved in the stone was the same as it was the last time he had visited.  Stiles reached one of his hands up from the ground and ran his fingers move across the groves, smiling softly.  He always liked coming here, even if he sometimes cried.  Just because he was sad, doesn't mean he wasn't happy.  Stiles couldn't bring himself to care over the fact that it didn't make sense.  But one can be happy at the memories of someone and still be sad that they won't get to make new ones.  Though today, Stiles was just...all happy.  

     "Hi, Mom." Stiles began.  Knowing his mother would have been overjoyed to hear about Derek, Stiles took a breath (ignoring the feeling of blush already creeping up on his cheeks), and spoke. "So there's this guy...

***

     Stiles told his mom about everything.  He talked about Derek started off as a grumpy werewolf with trust issues and how he managed to become a grumpy werewolf with trust issues that Stiles  _liked._ He gushed about how considerate and caring and comforting Derek was, and didn't even care that he mentioned a few times about how good of a kisser he was.  It was his mom, she wouldn't have minded.  He had spent a good two hours just sitting next to her headstone, talking.  He would have stayed longer if it wasn't for the fact that his stomach had started to growl something fierce.  Groaning about needing to get food, he told his mom he loved her, and headed towards his jeep.  Still happy from his visit, Stiles didn't care that it took five tries before he was able to start his vehicle.  Pulling out slowly from the area, careful not to kick up too much dust from the gravel, Stiles headed back to town.  

     Stopping for a burger and plenty of curly fries, Stiles found himself smiling towards anyone he met.  He grinned at the cashier, who gave him a strange look before giving him his change.  He beamed at a man getting ketchup near the pop station.  The man gave an equally confused expression towards Stiles, but the boy didn't care.  Sitting down with his food, he texted Derek.

     " _Hi."_ Stiles knew it wasn't much of a conversation starter, but he bet it wouldn't matter.  He got an instant reply.

     " _Hi."_ Looked like Derek wasn't going to be much of help in the conversation area.  What else was new? Stiles took a sip of his soda and tapped out a longer message. 

     " _I was thinking that you and I could go see that movie which came out last week.  The superhero one."_ Stiles added the clarification at the end, just in case.

     " _What happened to you and Scott seeing it?"_ Stiles' mind flew to Scott for a splint instant, but he was intent on staying positive.  

     " _Is that a no?  I mean we can always just hang out in the loft sometime.  Maybe do a little more of what we started last night..."_ Stiles tried to come off as coy, and hoped that it worked. 

     " _....I'm fine with either."_ Stiles laughed through a mouth full of fries.  

     " _As am I.  Though We could compromise and do both in the theater..."_

_"..."_ Stiles could practically hear the rumbling of Derek's chest.  Too bad there wasn't an emoticon for an arouse werewolf.  Before he could type out a response, Derek sent another message. " _Do you want to come over tonight?"_ Stiles blushed at the screen and felt his heart pick up.  Damn, it didn't take much to get him excited about Derek.  He wasn't complaining. 

     " _Ugh, I really want to.  Like, everything in my being wants to.  But I have to study for a chemistry test tomorrow.  :["_ And though Stiles  _did_ have a test the next day (Harris sucked), Stiles knew he couldn't get away with leaving on a Sunday night to hang out with someone without his uncle getting mad.  So he quickly stopped the possibility of the hang out/make out before he got too invested...well,  _more_ invested. " _What about after school tomorrow?  I don't mind skipping practice."_ Stiles wanted to make sure Derek knew he wanted to hang out.  God, he wanted to hang out. 

     " _That would be nice."_ The fact that Derek was openly admitting to wanting something, was huge.  Stiles felt warmth bloom in his stomach over the fact that Derek wanted to be with Stiles.  He didn't think this feeling could ever be topped.

***

     Stiles told Derek he was about to drive, and made his way back to his uncle's house. Pulling into his usual spot, Stiles turned off the engine and almost skipped as he went towards the front door.  Stepping into the house, Stiles closed the door behind him.  As he turned around, he was met with a red faced Tom.  

     "Where the fuck have you been?" Tom demanded.  He wasn't holding any beer or whiskey, which was a good sign.  His voice,however, was not as such.

     "I was visiting my mom."  Stiles answered quickly and quietly.  It was then that he realized he didn't leave a note saying where he was going.  Tom was probably angry over that.  Stiles relaxed minutely.  Surely the man would understand he was just at the cemetery. 

     "You're mother is  _dead,_ Boy."  His uncle spat out.  Actually spat.  Some of the spittle landed on Stiles' face, but he willed himself not to wipe it away in front of Tom.

     "I know, Sir.  I was just visiting her."  Stiles amended in a whisper, dropping his eyes.  Maybe he was wrong about Tom not freaking out as much.  Shit.

     "What makes you think that you have the right to  _visit_ her?" His uncle sneered, stepping even closer.  

     "I'm her son..." Stiles mumbled, keeping his eyes on the floor. 

     "You're a  _disgrace._ You were _never_ her son.  You were her _sickness._ You were her  _death!"_  His uncle pushed him against the door, holding him there with an arm to his chest. Stiles tried to speak, but his uncle cut him off.  "You don't have the  _right._ You and your father didn't deserve her and now you act like you have some  _God sent title_ saying you can bitch and moan about her being gone.   _You did this to her._ Don't you _dare_ act like you were worthy of her.  You weren't worthy when she was alive, you weren't worthy when she was sick, and you  _sure has hell are not worthy of her now!"_  His uncle was flat out screaming his Stiles' face.  Veins were bulging against his skin, like roads of anger mapping his face.

     "Uncle Tom, please stop.  You're making it hard to breathe." Stiles rasped out.  His chest was painfully tight under his uncle's forceful arm. The pressure was released, but Stiles didn't have time to embrace the relief before the side of his face was flaring up in pain.  His uncle had slapped him hard as soon as he took his arm away from his chest.  Flashing a hand up to his injured cheek, Stiles looked back at the man, confused.  What the hell had set his uncle off?  He had never gotten like this when Stiles forgot to mention where he was going. 

     "Don't fucking  _call_ me that!" His uncle roared.  Stiles tried to speak again, but his uncle backhanded his other side of his face.  "You should have never been born.  You  _father_ should have never married her.  He was  _never_ good enough for her.  And you stand here pretending you both  _were."_ Stiles started to put together what his uncle was saying.  He wasn't angry at Stiles for leaving without permission.  He wasn't angry about him not leaving a note.  He was angry for going to his mother's grave.  He kept saying how he wasn't "worthy" of his mom.  Tom had kept on mentioning how his father wasn't, either.  Like there was someone  _else_ that  _was._

     It clicked in Stiles' mind why his uncle had even started beating him in the first place, just as Tom was admitting it, himself.

     " _I should have been the one she fell in love with!"_  

     Stiles stood there, shocked.  Both from the hits as well as the new information.  His uncle had..loved his mother?  No, more than that.  He was  _in_ love with her?

     "You...were in love with her?" Stiles asked tentatively. His uncle shoved him back into the door again, making a large bang that echoed in the entryway. 

     "She was supposed to be with  _me._ Instead, your father took that away.  I sat by, happy to just be around her, but in the back of mind, I had always hoped she would leave my brother.  She would come to her senses.  But then she  _got sick._ And she was  _gone._ And you are  _standing here like you appreciated her.  YOU DIDN'T LOVE HER LIKE I DID!"_ His uncle threw a fist and Stiles managed to dodge it.  The blow landed against the door, causing his uncle to shout in pain.  He only got angrier and this time, Stiles' couldn't escape the next hit.  Hit landed just under his jaw, whipping his head back.  Letting out a noiseless shout, Stiles fell farther back into the front door. His uncle shot a few rapid punches into his stomach, which made Stiles scream for real this time.  It was loud in the otherwise quiet house, and it scratched his throat raw from the volume he had reached.  The pain was too much when it was centered on his already tender stomach.  He couldn't help it when his voice decided to finally convey the pain.  His scream was cut off by his uncle's hand.  Though it muffled it, Stiles was still groaning loudly as he struggled to stay upright.  "Stop making noise!" His uncle growled.  The hand over Stiles mouth firmly grasped his jaw and slammed his head back into the door with a sickening crack.  It was like his uncle was going for all the places he had already been hurt.  Seeing spots, Stiles shoved blindly outward.  Making his uncle stumble back a few steps, he took off towards the stairs.  He just needed to get away from the man,  He made it almost to the top of the steps before his uncle was there, grabbing his foot from behind and pulled harshly.  With a yelp, Stiles was pulled off balance and down the stairs.  His chin landed on the edge of a stair, making him bit down on his tongue.  Blood instantly flowed into his mouth and Stiles couldn't help it when he spat out the liquid.  He tried crawling back up the rest of the stairs but his uncle just pulled harder, his ankle protesting at the painful grip.  Kicking wildly, Stiles felt as one of his legs connected with something hard.  It must of been his uncle because the man grunted in pain.  As soon as he felt the hand leave his ankle, Stiles was back at the top of the stairs, making his way towards his bedroom.  Holding his stomach and panting, Stiles staggered down the hall. 

     He didn't make it far. 

     Stiles was tackled from behind and as he tried to catch himself in the fall, he threw the arm not holding his stomach, out in front of him.  With the combined force of himself and his uncle, he landed on his wrist too hard and pain shot up in the area.  The pounding in his head was too loud and his sight was too blurry for him to know if the bones made a crack at the impact.  He must have been concussed.  His uncle turned him over and Stiles immediately threw his hands towards his stomach, ignoring the pain in his left wrist.  He needed to protect his abdomen.  Unfortunately, it left his face open.  With a vicious strike, his uncle punched Stiles in the face, catching some of his eye.  If he thought it was hard to see before, it was all but impossible now.  His eye immediately shut in pain and Stiles _knew_ he was about to have the worst black eye of his life.  

     He couldn't stop himself from crying.  The tears just spilled over as soon as they gathered in his eyes.  He didn't know if any escaped from his left eye since it was so tightly shut.  He choked on the sobs as his uncle got up off him. He was breathing heavily as he just looked at Stiles, curling in on himself on the floor of the hallway.  

     "Ungrateful shit."  His uncle panted.  Stepping back from the groaning and sobbing Stiles, his uncle walked down the stairs without a second glance.  Stiles laid there, trying to catch his breath.  He didn't know how long he waited.  But time just slipped by and he couldn't do it.  His mind was having trouble focusing on anything but the pain.  He didn't even know if he was registering how badly he was hurt since his head was so foggy.  He knew he kept drifting in and out of awareness.  He completely forced himself move.  He needed to get out of sight.  His uncle would come back eventually and if Stiles was still in the hallway, there would be more pain.

     It was slow work.  He absolutely could _not_ stand.  Even crawling was impossible.  The only way he could move was in a sad form of an army crawl.  He couldn't really move one of his hands well enough to pull his body since his wrist was so sore. Every time he was able to get a few inches, he would have to stop because everything hurt too much.  His head would make it impossible to sense anything.  His eyesight would darken, his hearing would be reduced to a ringing.  His stomach would actually turn over, threatening to empty itself. Stiles didn't even want to guess how long it actually took him to make the six foot distance.  He had kept crying through the whole act, tears sliding down his still stinging cheeks.  His swollen eye had already began to throb painfully. He managed to get the door shut somehow, and as soon as the room was shut away from the other parts of the house, Stiles let himself rest.  His breath was ragged, throat tight from crying.  

     Stiles stared at the ceiling, trying to focus on not moving.  He concentrated on his breaths.  In. Out. In. Out.  He never gained sense of time back before he finally passed out.  He didn't know if it was from the pain, from exhaustion, or a panic attack.  

*** 

     Stiles woke up in a haze.  He couldn't open his left eye.  It was completely swollen shut.  Groaning, he tried turning his head, which only made him dizzy regardless of him being on the ground.  One by one, each injury made itself known.  The relief of sleep lifted, revealing all of the pain he had felt the night before.  If anything, it was worse, since it was a constant ache now.  He actually couldn't move.  He tried multiple times to just get  _up,_ but each time he attempted to, he failed.  Eventually he had to give up.  Tenderly reaching into the pockets of the shorts he was wearing, he eased his phone out. He had to use his right hand to do everything since is wrist on his other was so hurt.  After a few tentative movements, Stiles thought it wasn't broken.  Just sprained.  Sprained badly.  Getting through his contacts, Stiles texted out a mass message. 

     " _Sick.  Won't be at school.  Don't come see me.  Nasty."_ Stiles prayed it made sense.  He didn't even bother reading it over before sending it.  Soon enough, the entire pack would know he "why" he wasn't in school.  He added the part about not visiting him since he would have no way of explaining himself if they saw what had happened. He knew his uncle wouldn't check on him, and he probably would let him stay home anyway; he wouldn't want people to see the injuries.  Groaning, Stiles stayed on the blue carpet of his room, and drifted back to sleep. 

***

     Waking up the second time, Stiles was able to at least get himself onto his bed.  The act was painful, and Stiles tried to ignore the tears that fell out of his working eye.  Resting on the mattress, Stiles checked to see if anyone from the pack messaged him.  He read the handful of texts from everyone.  Most said "get well" or things of that nature.  Jackson didn't reply at all, but that was a given.  Scott replied with, "okay" which Stiles tried not to analyze because his head was already killing him. Stiles forced, and yes that means he literally _forced_ himself to get out of bed.  He staggered horribly to the bathroom.  He tried to clean up the best he could, but every motion he did had to be done in slow movement.  If he moved faster than a snail, he would feel the pain.  he didn't bother brushing his teeth or even showering.  He just ran a washcloth over his arms and body after somehow getting out of his clothes.  He couldn't muster up the courage to look at his stomach or even treat it,  When he accidentally brushed a part of it, he actually wretched.  It surprised him, only adding to the uncomfortable feeling.  Slightly panicking, Stiles ended up throwing up in the sink; he couldn't make the two feet to the toilet. When his stomach stopped emptying itself, Stiles stayed in the bathroom to calm his throbbing stomach and eye and head and everything.  Rinsing his mouth out with water, Stiles went back to his room.  Shutting the door quietly (the pills he took before heading back to the false sense of safety that was his room would take a while to kick in), Stiles laid on top of his covers.  The weight of any blanket or sheet would just irritate his sore body.  He let the air tingle against his skin.  Seeing his phone, he checked it again.  

_"I hear you're sick."_ It was from Derek.  Stiles tried to hold in another sob.

     " _Yeah.  I'm not doing too good."_ It wasn't a lie.

     " _Want me to come over?"_ Yes. Yes. Yes. 

     " _No, I'm really gross."_ God, how Stiles wanted Derek to come over.  He needed him.  Wanted him to be there.

     " _You're always gross._ " Derek remarked.  Stiles could only smile sadly at the text.  He couldn't laugh.  A few more tears fell out of his good eye.

      _"I don't think my uncle will appreciate you coming over unannounced."_  Stiles said.  Stiles waited for a response, but as the minutes ticked by without one, he found himself drifting back to sleep.  He had been doing a lot of it that day.  It was already mid afternoon.  It didn't stop him from passing out again, though. 

***

     Waking up was disorienting.  The room was dark.  The sun must have gone down a long time ago.  Looking at the time, Stiles saw that it was 10:27.  He had slept for almost an entire day.  He woke up a few times to go to the bathroom, but that only tired him out more.  He was still laying in only boxers on the bed.  The cool air was whispering against his skin, causing goosebumps.  He looked back at his phone when he registered what he had a message. 

      _"I'll be there around 10:30."_ It was from Derek.  

     No. No no no no no no no.

    _No._

He couldn't come over.  He couldn't see Stiles.   _Derek couldn't find out._

Ignoring the pain, Stiles frantically started typing a message.  He needed to tell Derek not to come over.  He was mid text when he heard the window of the bedroom being pulled open.  Fuck, he should have locked it!  

    Stiles' heart stopped. Derek swung a leg into the room one at a time, and stood upwards, turning towards stiles.  He was holding a bag and the room was quickly smelling of warm soup.  Ignoring the contents of Derek's hands, Stiles focused in on Derek's face.  More importantly, his eyes.  Though Stiles' vision was severely hindered thanks to the horrible black eye he was sporting, he knew what he saw.  

     For the first instant, Derek looked comfortable, at ease.  Happy.  He was bringing Stiles soup.  He was going to come keep him company and help him feel better.  What he walked in on, was a severely injured teenage boy laying on top of a bed absolutely _covered_ in sickening black and blue marks. It didn't take long for Derek to take in the sight.  In an instant, Derek's calm demeanor vanished from his eyes.  Complete concern, anger, and werewolf instinct flooded Derek's expression.  

    His eyes were now a blazing red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there is still a while to go in this fic, but I have been itching to start another I have had in my head. That being said, when I post the next update, I will also post the first chapter of my new fic! So keep an eye out for a completely new story starting soon, as well as this one!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned last update, with this post, I have also published a small intro chapter to my second fic! So if you want, check it out! Meanwhile, in THIS fic, Derek finally found discovered Stiles' secret! Dun dun dun dun!

     Derek's eyes were absolutely on fire as he took in the sight of Stiles.  Stiles glanced down at his own body laying on top of his bed. The bruises were horribly visible even in the darkness.  He couldn't see very well to begin with, thanks to his very swollen eye, but he knew how bad it looked. He turned his sight back to the alpha.

     "Derek-" Stiles began.  Couldn't even get out another word before Derek was across the room, soup forgotten, and kneeling next to the bed.  His hands were running over the length of Stiles, not touching.  They just hovered above his bruised form.  Ghosting across his skin as though even the slightest touch would hurt..which it probably out. 

     " _Stiles."_ Derek sounded so broken in that moment, and Stiles hated himself for doing this to him. "Stiles what-what  _happened. Oh my God, stiles."_ Derek's voice was starting to waver and Stiles was a little taken back.  He had expected Derek to be far more angry than upset.  

     "Hey.  Hey, look at me." Derek's face turned to Stiles, and the man let out an actual whine when he saw the black eye.  Stiles lifted one of hands off the bed and Derek immediately grasped it in his own.  "I'm alright."  Stiles said quietly.  Derek's eyes were still red and the man shook his head.

     "You're not.  What happened?"  Stiles noticed how Derek was very much getting angry.  Looks like he was a little too quick to say anger wasn't what Derek was feeling. 

     "You know me.  I fell." Stiles said quietly.  He knew it was a horrible lie, and Derek easily caught it.  Growling lightly, Derek shook his head again.

     "Stiles.  Tell me what happened. Who did this to you."  Derek's initial fear and concern was morphing more and more quickly into complete anger. His fangs were starting to sharpen.

     "I..I can't tell you." Stiles found his own voice starting to waver at his speaking.  Seeing Derek so angry was making him scared and he was just getting overwhelmed.  Sensing Stiles' distress, Derek seemed to calm himself down. His fangs slid slowly back into their usual spot, and his eyes faded back to their normal color. 

     "Stiles.  It's okay. You can tell me."  Derek leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to Stiles' hand he was still holding.  "I need to know who did this, Stiles."  Stiles looked at Derek for a moment and then he felt it.  

     He felt himself give in.  He couldn't hide it anymore.  God, he just wanted to tell Derek what had been happening to him.  He was tired of hiding this from everyone, and he just needed Derek so badly.  So he did it.  He told him.

     "It. It was my uncle." Stiles whispered the admission and he could feel the change in the atmosphere.  Stiles felt completely different having said it, and he could see how Derek had visibly stiffened as he took in the information.  He must have been putting the pieces together; seeing Stiles upset with him stopping by earlier that week, claiming his uncle was strict, Isaac claiming Stiles had been in a lot of pain.  Seeing the realization of how his uncle abused him strike Derek, he couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes.  They flowed easily out of their barriers, and Stiles let himself give out a sob. Derek was still beside him.

     "What?" Derek's voice was almost a whisper.  Stiles wasn't sure why.  Maybe he was too upset, maybe he was too angry.  But now that he had finally told him (even if it was out of necessity rather than volunteering), Stiles suddenly found himself admitting a lot.

     "My uncle, Derek." Stiles was outwardly crying now.  "He-he beats the shit out of me-all-all the time." The grip on Stiles' hand tightened. "Yesterday I went to visit my mom and-I-I came-came back and he go-got so-o mad at me an-and he-he-" Stiles couldn't finish the sentence because he was crying too hard. Derek looked frustrated because he wanted to comfort the boy, but didn't want to agitate the injuries.  Needing to do  _something,_ Derek placed a hand against Stiles' good side of his face.  His thumb quickly brushed away the many tears covering his cheek. "I'm s-sorry, Der-ek" Stiles wailed. 

     "Stiles, no!" Derek hushed him. "Stiles this is  _not_ your fault. This is Tom's." Derek's eyes flashed red at the name. Stiles, hearing his uncle mentioned, quickly realized something. 

     "Oh my God, Derek, you-you ca-can't! You can't tel-tell h-him! Please Derek! You-can't tell him yo-you kno-kno-know. Plea-"

     "Stiles, you need to calm down. You're alright now.  I've got you. I've  _got_ you." Derek just kept whispering reassuring noises to Stiles, trying to calm him down. "Can you breathe with me, Stiles?  Can you do that for me?" Stiles was still crying pretty hard, but he nodded in a jerky motion.  "Good, Stiles.  Let's just breathe, okay?"  Together, the two worked on calming down Stiles' breathing and after a while, it started to work.  Derek held Stiles' gaze the entire time. "Good, job, Stiles. You're okay.  I've got you."  Stiles wasn't sure why Derek kept saying that, but it made him feel so much better.  So much safer.  When Stiles finally was breathing at a normal pace again, Derek gave him another kiss to the hand. "Stiles. I. I need you to tell me where you're hurting, okay?" At the words, Stiles realized how much in pain he still was.  Without his panic to override all other sensations, Stiles was still very much hurt. He looked at Derek, and let out a small whimper despite trying not to.

     "Everywhere."  Derek's eyes threatened to blaze again, but stayed normal.  Only a hint of glow came of them. Derek didn't growl, but he did let out a rumble.

     "Okay.  Can you tell me where specifically, though? Where is it the worst?"

     "My stomach." Stiles answered immediately. Derek's eyes flew to the area and He winced, taking in the sight. Derek asked what his uncle did, and Stiles explained. "He," Stiles took a breath. "The first night I was here, he kicked me there. It was so sore and bruised ever since.  Last night, he did it again and now.." Stiles trailed off, not needing to explain.  The sight was enough.  Derek looked at him.

     "That first night. Was it...did he do it because I came over?" Derek asked.  Stiles' heart broke to think Derek thought it was his fault.

     "No! No of course not, Derek!" He reassured him.  Derek must have caught the lie, because his own eyes looked a little watery and he gripped Stiles' hand even harder.  Not wanting to dwell on it, Stiles went on to his other injuries.  "When he started to beat me, He pushed me and I hit my head.  Like my stomach, I had already been hurt there.  I had landed on a nightstand the first night."  The more and more he said, the more and more numb he sounded.  "I tried getting away last night.  My tongue is pretty sore." Derek looked a little confused so Stiles had to clarify further. "I was running up the stairs and he grabbed my leg.  I fell and bit my tongue.  He tackled me in the hallway and I think I sprained my wrist." Derek immediately let go of his hand, probably in fear of hurting him. "No, don't worry." Stiles gave a weak smile. "It's the other one." Derek took a quick glance at the other hand, lifting it gingerly off the bed.  Stiles winced a little and Derek made sure to be even more gentle.  Turning it over in his hands with a feather touch, Derek placed it gently back on the bed. 

     "It isn't broken, you're right." Derek looked like he was physically in pain to be talking about this. 

     "When he had me on the ground, that was when he started hitting my face.  I was trying to protect my stomach." Stiles placed a hand gently over his abdomen. "And he just...kept hitting me." Stiles murmured. Derek was whining quietly.  He had done it before, but now it was a constant noise. Just a miserable, high pitched noise in the back of his throat.  

     "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"  Stiles looked at Derek, a little confused.

     "Derek I can't.  My uncle will hear us.  I can't believe he hasn't already.  Oh my God, Derek you have to go! He can't find you here!" Stiles felt the panic rising.

     "Stiles, it's okay.  I can hear him sleeping downstairs." Derek sounded disgusted at the fact.  Stiles willed himself to calm down slightly.  "Come on, I'm going to help you, okay?" Stiles nodded his head slowly.  Derek took Stiles' hand and draped it over his shoulders.  Gently pulling Stiles towards the edge of the bed (letting Stiles do most of the pacing), Derek pulled him off the bed, and stood up in the same motion.  Stiles was effectively leaning against Derek with all his weight.  Derek lead them slowly out of the room, slowing down to a crawl whenever Stiles started to make too many noises in discomfort.  The finally made it to the bathroom and Derek sat Stiles down on the toilet before locking the door behind him.  Derek turned to the tub, and turned on the faucet.  

     "What are you doing?" Stiles asked quietly.  He was letting his injured wrist sit on the toilet's tank.  The cool porcelain felt great against the throbbing.

     "I'm drawing you a bath." Derek said gently.  He turned to Stiles once the tub was filled with water.  Stiles let himself be stood up and walked to the edge of the tub.  Stiles looked at the water, and hesitated, noting his underwear.  Derek seemed to notice as well.

     "You can leave them on, if you want." Derek reassured.  But there was no need to be embarrassed.  He knew he wanted Derek, he knew Derek wanted him.  There was going to come a time when Stiles would want Derek to see him naked.  It might be a little early, and under circumstances that weren't all that great, but Stiles was okay with Derek seeing him.  Besides, there was nothing sexual about this moment.  Stiles wasn't worried about Derek getting distracted or anything like that.  He was taking care of the boy, and Stiles was thankful.

     "It's okay, Derek.  I trust you." And he did.  Derek nodded, not blushing since it was far too grave of a situation to truly be remotely embarrassed. Even though he was okay with it, Stiles couldn't help that his heart sped up a little bit when he used his good hand to hook a thumb around the waistband of his underwear and tugging them down. When he got to the point where he couldn't bend over because of his stomach, Derek quickly helped pull them the rest of the way down in a fast motion.  Stiles stood there, naked as the world, and Derek gently helped him step into the tub.  "Oh." Stiles said when the warmth hit his body.  It was the perfect temperature.  He did his best with laying down into the water, but Derek ended up having to ease him downwards.  Even with Stiles' nakedness, the situation wasn't awkward.  Leave it to Derek to be the perfect gentleman.  "Why are you being so calm?" Stiles asked quietly.  He didn't really trust his voice right now.  His sore body was quickly welcoming the warmth, though he was still in a lot of pain.  

     "Because you're injured and me getting mad right now won't help you." Derek said with a matter of fact tone. "But I want to talk with you and get you cleaned up, alright?" Stiles nodded slowly and Derek took a washcloth. He ran the fabric over Stiles' arms, almost reverently.  There wasn't any noticeable pressure, and Stiles relaxed into the movement. The water was up to his neck, so his body was almost completely submerged.  Derek's hands were in the water as he worked.  "Stiles," Derek took a breath.  The man was obviously trying to stay calm for Stiles' sake.  The alpha probably wanted to go and rip off Tom's head in that moment.  Part of Stiles wanted him to.  "When did...when did he start?" Derek chose his words very carefully, slowly saying each one. Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stay calm.

     "I was 8 years old." Stiles whispered, looking at the faucet.  He didn't think he could look Derek in the eyes.  He could hear Derek inhale slightly at the admission.  Maybe he had expected it to be a recent thing.  Stiles continued. "I..didn't know at first why he was doing it." At the memory of the first time, Stiles slowly moved his hands together in the water, careful not to hurt his wrist. "He used to be one of my favorite people in the world. He would tell me jokes and make cookies and play outside with me all the time.  But one day he just....snapped." Stiles voice caught a little at the last word.  Derek was silent for a moment, though he didn't stop cleaning Stiles off.  

     "Did he do something to make you do that?" He asked quietly.  Stiles asked what he meant. "Your hands.  I noticed you rub them together a lot.  And just now..you started when you mentioned him." Derek thought aloud. Stiles forced himself to stop the movement, though it was only making his palms buzz more. "Stiles." Derek prompted.  Now wasn't the time to hide things. 

     "The first time he did anything, I was trying to get a drink of water.  I dropped it and the glass shattered on the ground.  He..got angry and I ended up being thrown onto the glass.  My palms were pretty cut up and he made me clean up the mess. But-but it wouldn't work, Derek.  Every time I-I wiped the mess up, my hands would just smear blood on the floor." Stiles stopped himself before he got too invested in the memory. Derek paused in his movements.  Putting the washcloth on the side of the tub, Derek reached for Stiles' hands and took them both in his.  He gingerly held onto him.  No squeezing, no rubbing, just held them.  Stiles looked back at Derek and the man never looked more worried.  Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what he could say.  They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other.  Derek was saying so much with his face that they didn't need to say much.  When Derek went back to rubbing the cloth along Stiles, he asked for more. 

     "What else has he done, Stiles?" 

     "It doesn't matter, Derek." And in Stiles' mind, it didn't.  What's done was done. 

     "Stiles, please." Derek actually sounded like he was begging.  The man was already at the end of his rope. "I need to know what that...that  _bastard_ has done to you."

     "Why?" Stiles asked incredulously. "Why do you need to know this?  Why can't you just leave it alone?"

     "Because I am your alpha! I'm your boyfriend!" Derek was going back to his angry stage.  He was keeping it together, but barely.  

     Stiles couldn't handle it.  He couldn't handle Derek being mad at him. But he didn't want to recount more beatings.  The ones already on his mind were bad enough.  For fuck's sake, the one he had just _been through_ was enough.

     "Fine.  You want some more examples?  There was the time he slammed my fingers with the bedroom door.  I broke four fingers.  Four.  What about the time when he used the frying pan I was making his breakfast in to smash into the side of my face? I couldn't hear for a week.  Oh! He once decided to give the classic belt a try.  I still have some scars on my back from the buckle.  Last summer, he wouldn't let me leave the house for the entire stay.  Remember how I went to visit my aunt? Yeah, no. I was stuck here for a week.  Wanna know how many times he let me eat in that time? Twice. _Twice_. If I even stepped foot into the kitchen, he'd start to beat me.  Do you want to hear about the time he choked me until I passed out because I didn't make his drink the way he wanted?  Just this past week, he had me stay up the entire night cleaning.  I didn't a single minute of sleep.  Once he took the fork from his plate an-"

     "Stop." Derek cut him off.  Stiles had been crying almost instantly after he started to unload the memories. 

     "What? Isn't this what you want to hear? So you can get angry at the man?  Will that help you?  Because it doesn't help _me._ It doesn't change the fact that it _happened_ , Derek. It doesn't change the fact that I am laying in a bathtub, so fucking sore I can hardly move.  Derek, it hurts all _over."_ Stiles was sobbing now.  He was making awful hiccuping noises in between words. Derek stopped with the cloth and pressed his hands against Stiles' chest quickly.  For a moment, the pain increased, making his body jerk in discomfort.  

     The feeling passed quickly, though, and Stiles found the pain being fading fast. Stiles felt each part of his body loosen from the pain's grip.  His wrist stopped throbbing, his face began to stop aching, his head had taken on this fuzzy feeling, and his stomach had become manageable.  When Stiles felt considerably better, Derek pulled his hands away.  Though he could still see the black veins on Derek's arms, Stiles was only focusing on how much better he felt.  Well, better didn't mean 100% healed.  His stomach was still really sore, but nothing compared to what it was.  Turning his head to Derek, Stiles saw the man grimacing slightly. 

     "Derek," Stiles began.  His voice was raw from crying. "You didn't have to do that." Derek shook his head and his face started to go back to a neutral state. "I don't want you in pain." 

     "The feeling's mutual." Derek said quietly.  His voice was a little strained, so Stiles thought that all the pain might not be gone from his body yet.  "But it passes quickly." Derek mused.  "I'm..Stiles, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to make you say things you didn't want to.  But." Derek took a few breaths.  The man never _was_ good with words. "But I can't. I can't  _see_ you like this.  God, Stiles, It's killing me." Derek's eyes were a little watery. "I can't believe I didn't see this was happening to you.  I'm so sorry, Stiles. I completely failed you. Oh my God, I am  _so sorry."_ A tear slid out of Derek's eye, but the man made no move to catch it. 

     "Shh." Stiles hushed Derek. "I'm sneaky, Der.  You know me."  Stiles smiled a little.  He was feeling so much better, he could afford a little smile. Especially for Derek.  Derek, who had made him feel so much safer, even with his uncle right downstairs.  "I didn't want you to know.  I used a lot of pain meds, and cleaned with vinegar constantly.  I was so careful, Derek."  He reached a hand out of the tub and cupped Derek's cheek, brushing the tear away with his thumb. "God, I wanted to tell you, Derek.  So many times, I almost did. If you hadn't walked in tonight, I probably would have within the week." Derek's eyes focused on Stiles instead of on the ground where they were just before. He looked like he wasn't sure Stiles was telling the truth.  "Derek, listen to me.  I was going to tell you.  I was going to ask you for help.  I was just so...caught up with not admitting it." Derek leaned somewhat into Stiles' hand. "Most of me knew I had to tell you.  To tell someone.  You were the best choice.  You make me feel so safe and..and  _loved,_ Derek.  I  _wanted_ to tell you.  But even as you were climbing in the room, I panicked.  I thought " _no, he can't know this"_ because I know a lot of this is my fault." Derek immediately opened his mouth to refute the statement, but Stiles went on.  "I know what you're going to say.  But It just makes sense.  I know how much of a strain I put on my dad.  How much stress I put on my mom when she was sick." Stiles voice was a whisper as he looked into Derek's eyes. "I know how much of a fuck up I am." He gave another slight smile. "Tom tells me so, all the time."  

     "Your father loves you with all his heart, Stiles." Derek said with a tone of respect he only used when talking about his dad.  "He is a lucky man to have you as a son, and he knows it." He grabbed Stiles hand and held it there against his face. "You were the pride and joy of your mother's life.  If anything, you brought so much happiness into her life at the end.  You kept her strong for all that time." This time, it was Stiles who felt himself gather water in his eyes. "You are not a fuck up.  You are a gift, Stiles.  A  _gift."_  

     Stiles knew he would still struggle to see it that way, but hearing how strongly Derek felt about this, Stiles felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.  He felt..whole.  He completely believed Derek saw him as anything but a screw up.  A joke.  Derek saw Stiles as..good.  

     It wasn't difficult to wrap his hand around the back of Derek's head, since it was already on his cheek.  Pulling him in gently, Stiles pressed his lips to Derek's.  It was a little awkward since Stiles was still in the tub, and Derek got some of his clothes wet, but neither seemed to mind.  After a moment, Derek pulled back.

     "Let's get you out of the tub before it gets cold, alright?"  Stiles nodded and the two worked together to get Stiles out.  It was easier this time since Stiles was feeling better thanks to Derek's pain sucking powers.  The ended up back in Stiles' room.  After he had successfully gotten underwear and a shirt over his head, they laid down on the bed.  "I'm going to stay here tonight." It wasn't a question.  But Stiles wasn't going to complain.  He needed Derek.  And maybe..maybe Derek needed Stiles. 

     "Derek?"  Stiles asked.  

     "Hm?" Derek hummed under his breath.  He was laying next to Stiles, on his side.  He probably didn't want to crowd Stiles in his current state. 

     "What are you going to do?" Stiles asked nervously.  

     "About?" 

     "You know."  Stiles gestured sadly at himself. Derek took a breath in, and closed his eyes.  Stiles was on his back, but had his head turned towards the man.  

     "I am going to take care of it." Derek said, eyes still closed.  If they were open, Stiles thought they would have been red. 

     "Please don't.  It'll be okay.  Just. I just have to make it through this trip and then I'll be back with my dad." Stiles started to argue. 

     "He can't get away with this." Derek said.  Stiles could hear the growl growing deep in Derek's chest.  He realized that Derek was showing a lot of restraint in this moment.  The entire time after he found out what had happened, Derek had stayed with Stiles, had helped him, and had stayed relatively calm.  It must have been going against his entire being not to go down stairs and rip Tom apart.  Stiles meant so much to Derek, he was staying calm for him.  He was taking care of Stiles first.  His alpha status would come second.  

     Stiles didn't know if he had ever felt more cared for. 

     Which is why he decided Derek was right.  Derek had nothing but his best interests in mind, and Stiles wanted to trust him.  

     "Okay."

     "What?" Derek's eyes shot open, red dimming.  Looks like Stiles' prediction before was correct. 

     "You can..deal with him." Derek's eyes somehow hardened, and softened at the same time.  He nodded once. "But," Stiles went on. "I don't want to do it until my Dad gets back, okay?  I don't want to freak him out more than he will be.  Tom is his brother, after all." Stiles willed himself to keep going, not wanting to give into the part of him saying to shut up and refuse to tell his father. He was going to do this.  Derek wanted to help.  "Until then, please, please, don't do anything." Derek was looking at Stiles, a look of severe contemplation on his face. "Please, Derek.  I will tell my dad.  I will tell him and he will know what to do. Just. Just don't do anything yet. Okay? I can do this.   _We_ can do this." Derek cut off his rambling with quick kiss.  

     "Okay. Stiles, okay.  I won't do anything. For now. But if he touches you again, I  _will_ do something. Understand?" Stiles nodded quickly.  Derek sighed and shifted towards Stiles more.  "I can't stand by and let this happen, Stiles.  It's..God, it's killing me not to be doing something right now." Derek took a shaky  breath.  "Stiles." Somehow, Derek was able to express so much in just a name.  Pressing his face into the area where Stiles' neck met his shoulder, Derek outwardly whined.  It wasn't a human noise; it was completely wolf.  Nuzzling the spot, Stiles felt it get wet from Derek's tears. Stiles felt himself start to cry as well.  It was still awkward with a swollen eye, but the tears fell down his face and he rubbed Derek's back soothingly. "I'm here, Stiles. I'm not going to leave you.  I will do whatever it takes to make you safe."  Stiles felt his heart bloom with Derek's words.  

     "Derek?" 

     "Yes?" Derek's face was still pressed against Stiles' skin.

     "Did I hear you correctly when you said you were my boyfriend?" Stiles heard Derek chuckle through his tears.  He leaned up from where he was positioned, and kissed Stiles gently.  Both of their faces were red from crying, and eyes puffy. 

     "Yeah.  You heard right."  Derek said between kisses.

     "Good." Stiles smiled gently against Derek's lips. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! A mini update! I was talking with a reader and they brought up some good points about Derek, and I wanted to further show my intentions for him. And what better way to show what Derek is feeling, than with a chapter from his point of view?? It's a small one, but I hope you enjoy the bonus material, and I hope this clears up where I think Derek is coming from, and why he acted the way he did.

     Derek stayed laying next to Stiles long after the boy had fallen asleep.  He looked so peaceful.  His chest was rising slowly as he breathed and Derek couldn't help but see the irony in his state.   Stiles was more bruised than unbruised.

     When Derek had stepped into the room, he had expected to see a stuffy-nosed-Stiles sitting on his bed, watching movies.  He had brought over some soup his own mother used to make him when he was feeling under the weather.  Well, she did until his wolf presented himself and he didn't have to worry about getting sick anymore.  But when he entered the space, Derek's nose was assaulted with a multitude of smells. The first being pain.  A pain so strong, it started to hurt his nose.  The next scents he caught were worry, fear, and a smell Derek still couldn't describe right, but knew as the one that followed when people had been crying.  Immediately, his eyes caught onto the form laying on the bed.  When he recognized Stiles, he relaxed for an instant before he  _saw_ Stiles.  

     When Derek took in his form, his _beaten_ form, his eyes were already glowing.  He could feel the heat behind them, and a growl was readily building in his body. He was about to let himself find whoever did this to a pack member.  To hunt them down and rip them to shreds.  He was going to  _end_ whoever had done this.  To his  _pack._ Derek was going to do it, until it clicked.

     This wasn't just pack.  This was  _Stiles._ _  
_

This was more than someone attacking his pack.  This was  _Stiles_ who was laying on his bed, beaten.  This was the same kid who had twisted around Derek's heart and wouldn't let go.  The boy who talked non stop enough to fill the part of Derek who stayed silent.  

     And he was injured.  He couldn't ignore that.  He _couldn't_ let his wolf take over. Not yet. Stiles needed him.  He needed help. 

     When Stiles tried to speak, Derek ignored him and immediately went to check on him up close.  Derek wanted to pat him down, ebb all the pain from his body, but he was afraid any touch would hurt Stiles more.  Needing to do  _something,_ Derek hovered his hands over Stiles' body: miming the act he wanted to do.  He felt himself panic slightly over the sight.  Someone else in his life had been attacked.  It was almost like his family all over again. He didn't know how Stiles had gotten away from the attack, or why it happened.

     When Stiles told him that it was his uncle. Derek's breath caught in his throat.  

     He had been there.  Derek had been there the first day Stiles stayed over.  He had met his uncle.  At the time, Derek chalked it up to the man being pretty reserved.  Stiles had smelled of fear, but Stiles wasn't unfamiliar with that scent.  Derek had just..not noticed.  God, how could he not have noticed? Isaac had come to him about the boy seeming to be in pain. Stiles had been smelling of medicine lately.   _How could this have happened._ Derek started to apologize for this.  He couldn't believe he had missed someone so important to him being hurt. Stiles was smart. He was stealthy, yes, but Derek should have known.  

     It wouldn't happen again.  

      _Derek wouldn't let his uncle get away with this again._

     Derek had helped Stiles into the tub, keeping his eyes to himself.  If he took advantage of Stiles' current condition to take a peek, it would make him an awful person.  He didn't think he could even dare do that to Stiles.  This was more than taking a bath.  This was Derek cleaning Stiles up from..from  _hell._ It broke Derek's heart to listen to all the times Stiles recalled his uncle hurting him.  All the times Derek hadn't been there to protect him.  Derek didn't even care that he had called Stiles his boyfriend.  It was what he thought of him as, and it didn't matter.  What mattered was Stiles.  

     When Stiles was cleaned well enough and Derek thought his body wouldn't go into shock from the amount of pain being taken suddenly, Derek pulled as much discomfort from the boy as he could.  He wished he could have done it earlier, but sometimes if the person was too injured or had too many wounds, any attempt to pull pain would result in doing more harm than good.  Shock, panic attacks, or worse could happen if it wasn't done correctly.  Derek didn't want to do that to Stiles.  He _couldn't_ do that to Stiles. But when he finally let himself take the pain, Derek's wolf howled.  The inside of him wanted to scream at the pain he was experiencing.  It wasn't the worst thing Derek had felt, but it was far, _far_ too much pain that Stiles should have been feeling.  The only thing stopping himself from going after Tom in that moment, was seeing Stiles relax finally.  His body visibly eased in the tub and Derek felt the smallest amount better knowing he had let Stiles release at least some of his discomfort.   

     The entire time Derek was cleaning Stiles the best he could, he was battling with himself.  He was completely torn over wanting to help Stiles, and take care of his uncle.  Stiles won, of course, but Derek was itching to get to the older man.  To see the walls painted red with his blood.  He wanted to hurt the man in every way possible.  He forced himself to stay calm, knowing how unstable Stiles could become at any moment.  

     Derek had let Stiles know how much it was hurting him to know he wasn't there for the boy.  He had openly cried in front of the kid, and scent marked him.  His wolf was furiously heart broken and Derek needed Stiles' scent to ground him.  The two had kissed gently for a while before Derek forced Stiles to rest; the boy need it. Laying in the room with Stiles, listening to his heartbeat, Derek couldn't take it anymore.  

     Getting off the bed, Derek crept out of the room without a noise.  The closer he got to the steps, the angrier he became.  He felt his eyes blaze to life; fiercer and fiercer with each step he took down stairs. He could hear Tom snoring in the living room, and it only got him more upset.  The man was sleeping like a  _child_ while Stiles was recovering from the horrible beating  _he had caused._ Derek stalked to the living room, noiselessly feeling his face change into his beta form.  His eyebrows tightening and his lip snarling over his now extended fangs.  Turning the corner, he saw Tom.  he was laying on a recliner, drink next to him.  Derek felt himself growl.  It was a full body vibration starting from the pit of his stomach and crawling out his mouth.  It was quiet enough not to stir the drunk man.  Creeping closer, Derek stood in front of the Stiles' uncle.  

     This was the culprit.  This was the reason Stiles' was so terrified.  This alcoholic was the reason Stiles was so hurt.  And though he promised Stiles not to do anything (out of sake for his sanity) Derek was struggling not to slash his throat out.  He wanted to do it the way Stiles' did.  The kid had already had so much of his life taken out of his control and Derek didn't want to add to the list.  Stiles deserved to handle this the way he wanted.  He deserved to tell his father, and let the sheriff take it from there.  He deserved so much more than..than this _monster_ who beat him. Clenching his fists, Derek felt his claws pierce into his palms.  Blood had started to drip between his shaking fists.

     "If you touch him." Derek growled. "If you so much as lay a  _finger_ on him again,  _I. Will. Kill. You. "_ Derek's whole body was shaking with tremors at this point.  He was barely holding it together.  He was dying to kill Tom.  He wanted to feel his claws sink into his skin.  To feel his skull crack under his hands.   

     Derek's head snapped up at the sound of a muffled groan coming from Stiles' room. He had been asleep for about two hours before Derek had made his way downstairs.  The pain Derek had taken must have been coming back.  Without a second glance to Tom, Derek turned and went back up to Stiles' bedroom.  Getting closer to the room, Derek felt his face shift back to normal, and his palms heal from the cuts his claws had made.  Rubbing the blood onto his jeans, Derek entered the room.  Stiles was laying on his back, stirring in his sleep.  Derek could smell the injuries starting to flare up again.  Quickly, Derek climbed onto the bed and placed a hand gently onto Stiles' sleeping body.  Closing his eyes and concentrating, Derek let himself take in Stiles' pain.  Clenching his jaw at the hurt, Derek took as much as he could.  Stiles quickly fell into a deeper sleep: no longer feeling his injuries. When Derek laid back down next to Stiles, he focused in on the boy's heartbeat.  

     Derek replayed what he said to Tom down in the living room. 

     He meant every word.  

     Derek shifted towards Stiles, letting himself calm down from the vicious anger in his body, and focused on being there for the boy.  

     He wouldn't fail Stiles again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek's threats shouldn't be taken lightly. *cough cough wink wink*


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick update! I know these past two have been kind of small, but each were bits of plot I really really wanted in, but couldn't find a good enough place to put in any particular chapter. Everywhere I thought they could go, wouldn't fit very well....so they get their own mini-spotlight! 
> 
> Also, this may be a small little update, but a tag some of you have been wondering about, is finally here.

     Stiles woke up feeling stiff.  Stretching out slightly, his body scolded him for trying to move before it was ready.  His joints were sore and his wrist was still jarring if he moved it a certain way.  However, the area was considerably better after an entire day of resting it.  Derek's pain sucking probably helped a great deal as well.  Which, hey, he felt better by a considerable amount if he thought about it.  His face was tender, but it wasn't throbbing.  He could even blink his bruised eye.  His stomach was still another story, but Stiles would take what he could get.  Thinking of the werewolf, he turned his head to see Derek asleep next to him.  He was on his side, one had tucked to his chest and the other spread slightly towards Stiles in a protective manner; like he was preparing himself to be ready at any moments notice to help again. Stiles wanted to stay like that forever.  With Derek sleeping next to him and Stiles feeling content. He could do without the slight discomfort, though. 

     Reaching his hand over to the sleeping man, Stiles gently rubbed against Derek's shoulder.  His skin was warm to the touch and Stiles wanted to wrap himself around the form.  

     "Derek." Stiles mumbled, voice still a little thick with sleep.  Derek didn't respond other than burying his face a little more into the pillow he was resting on. "Derek." Stiles said again, voice a little fonder.  This time, Derek's eyes shot open, red.  

     "What is it? Are you alright? Where do you hurt?" Derek was looking up and down Stiles' form like crazy. 

     "I'm fine. Well.  You know." Stiles gave Derek a sad smile, and the man visibly relaxed back into the bed.  His eyes lost their blaze, but retained the intensity.  Derek's gaze flicked to Stiles' face.

     "How are you feeling?" 

     "Like a truck ran me over.  But considering it was worse last night, I should be thanking you."  Stiles was genuine. 

     "Of course."  Derek added.  With that, Derek smoothly placed a hand on the side of Stiles' uninjured face and the boy could feel even more of the discomfort leave his body.  He couldn't help but sigh.  Derek's hand was close enough that he was able to brush his thumb against Stiles' lips, gently.  Leaning in, Derek gave a small kiss.  Unfortunately, it didn't last.  Derek pulled away and had a severe scowl on.  

     "Did I screw up or something?" Stiles wondered.  Maybe he had morning breath.

     "No. No." Derek amended quickly. His face darkened further, though. "But you're uncle is awake."  The hatred that came with Derek's acknowledge to Tom was evident.  His voice was dripping with loathing. 

     "Oh." Was all that Stiles could say. He tried his best not to get too worked up over the thought of his uncle. If he was up, that meant Derek couldn't be seen. "I guess you have to go?"  Stiles wasn't keen on the idea.  At all.  The very thought of being alone again in the house with the man who hated him so much, made Stiles sick.  

     "He's going to be up and around soon.  It's almost 9:00.  He made his way into his room around 2:30 this morning." Stiles stiffened. "Don't worry, he didn't even come close to stopping in here." Derek quickly reassured the boy.  Stiles just nodded quietly.  

     "I've got to, uh, I should get up.  He won't like it if I stay in here all day." Stiles murmured quietly. 

     "He is the one that did this to you.  If that _fucker_ gets angry for you being hurt, he is more messed up than I thought." Derek spat out.  His jaw was clenched in obvious anger.  He must have been doing a lot of thinking while Stiles was asleep, and was no longer focused on Stiles' immediate Safety.  He wasn't sure how long Derek had stayed up watching to make sure Stiles wasn't in too much pain. He must have helped a lot considering Stiles had slept better than he had in days. 

     "I know.  I know, Derek.  But it'll just make it worse."  Stiles sighed, realizing he was going to have to get up and act like he wasn't in pain.  "Why don't I walk you out, okay?"  Derek did not look like he thought it was even remotely 'okay' but he nodded once.

     Walking downstairs was strange.  His body was moving and it was a little sore, but Stiles knew he should have been in more pain.  Thank God for Derek Hale and his wolfy powers.  Almost as if he was reading Stiles' mind, Derek spoke. 

     "You're still injured.  You just don't feel it as much." Derek uttered when they got to the bottom of the stairs. Stiles hummed in agreement and opened the front door unwillingly.  God, he didn't want Derek to leave.  Every inch of his body was begging to let the man stay with him.  To protect him.  Stepping out onto the front porch, Derek turned back at Stiles.  "He's getting out of bed." Derek sneered. "Sounds like he is coming downstairs."  Derek's eyes flashed and his hands clenched into fists, shaking slightly.

     "Derek.  It's okay.  Go, I'll be alright." Stiles tried to calm the man down.  When Derek's eyes were focused through the house to where Tom was probably walking, Stiles started to worry he was going to do something he shouldn't.  So Stiles did what he knew would bring Derek back to him.  He lunged forwards onto the porch and slammed his lips against Derek's.  It was a little tackless and messy, but Derek seemed to enjoy the surprise.  His anger made it awkward at first, but the man quickly adapted and was eagerly kissing back. Stiles tried to push everything he felt for Derek into the embrace.  How much he was thankful for Derek. For his care and protection and guidance and kindness and light.  He kissed with all his  _love_ for him.  And oh God, it was true.  He loved Derek Hale.  More than that, _he was in love with Derek hale._

     Hearing a noise on the stairs, Stiles forced himself to end the kiss.  "So, uh, thank you for worrying and stopping by, but you know how bad I am at skateboarding!" Stiles made himself laugh convincingly.  He was just giddy enough from the kiss for it to sound real.  Derek looked confused for a split second but then caught on, realizing Tom was probably in hearing distance.  

     "Right." Was all Derek said. It looked like he didn't want to play into the lie.  He looked like he wanted to get in front of Stiles and between him and Tom.  He  _looked_ like he wanted to kill Tom.  But he agreed to go with the plan last night.  Stiles trusted him.  

     "Well, I'll see you soon, okay?"  Stiles prompted.

     "Right." Repetitive.  With that, Derek turned and walked away from the house.  His movements were confident, like he had purpose: a mission. Moving to go back inside, Stiles took a breath and shut the front door once back in the house.  Tom, as he predicted, standing near the steps.  He had a strange look on his face.  Smug, maybe. "Good morning, Sir." Stiles said quietly. 

     "What was that?" Tom sounded alert.  Too alert for Stiles' liking.

     "What was what, Sir?" Stiles asked, keeping his voice soft.

     "Oh, so you're suddenly shy about it?"  Stiles kept silent.  "You didn't seem too shy when you were fucking your friend just now." His uncle sneered.  Shit.  Stiles thought he wouldn't be able to see.  That's okay.  It's okay.  He won't freak too much, right? 

     "He's my boyfriend, Sir." Stiles responded.  Tom took enough steps forward that Stiles back against the door.  He was getting tired of doing that.  

     "So you like it?" Tom asked mockingly. 

     "What?" Stiles asked, surprised.

     "You like it when he fucks you?"  Tom growled.

     "Sir, we just kissed..." Stiles muttered.  Tom never got vulgar in this way before.  Stiles didn't like it. Tom scoffed. 

     "Right.  But you like it, huh?" Stiles went to answer, but Tom's hand gripped his chin tightly. "You  _like_ him shoving his tongue in your mouth? Huh?" with that, Tom pressed his own lips against Stiles, hard.  Stiles was too surprised to react properly.  He gave a noise of shock from behind his lips, but Tom didn't stop pressing into him.  

     "Sir-" Stiles mumbled as best as he could.  He really didn't like this.  It was making him sick.  Tom took advantage of Stiles opening his mouth and shot his tongue into Stiles.  It ran over his own tongue and brushed against the walls of his cheeks.  It was harsh and _wrong._ Stiles was definitely going to be sick. Pushing back as hard as he dared, he got Tom off him.  "Stop."

     "Oh, not in the mood?  We could always just go for the main event if you rather." Tom's face darkened and his shot a hand out in between Stiles' legs.  Tom forcefully cupped Stiles' groin through his thin boxers.  Yelping, Stiles tried swatting the hand off him.  Tom held onto Stiles with a too tight grip.  He palmed Stiles through the fabric and Stiles was whimpering with discomfort and disgust.  His hand felt wretched on him.  Shoving harder this time, Stiles pushed Tom.

     "I said  _stop!"_ Stiles shouted.  Tom just laughed.

     "Oh, so only _he_ can touch your cock? If only your mother was here to see-" Stiles didn't let Tom finish because he was bolting up the stairs.  He was shouting up at him when Stiles locked himself in the bathroom, puking into the sink.  He couldn't make it to the toilet. Emptying his stomach of the little food he had eaten the other day, Stiles felt himself shake with tremors.  His chest was tight and his skin burned from where Tom had touched him.  His lips felt like slime and his tongue like sandpaper.  He felt completely filthy.  Like there was a layer of grime covering his entire body, inside and out. He sat down against the door when his stomach finally stopped heaving, and waited for Tom to barge in.  He waited, and waited, but the man never came upstairs.  Stiles didn't know why he was left alone, but he wasn't going to question it. 

     He quickly rid himself of his clothes and got in the shower.  The spray wasn't hot enough to rinse off the phantom touch Stiles felt between his legs.

***

     It happened when Stiles had lunged towards him on the porch, smashing their lips together.  It was then that Derek realized.  The kiss had held so many emotions.  Derek felt desperate against Stiles' lips.  He felt needy and content and excited and hurt and aroused and worried and confident and protective and angry and  _determined_ and it was then that Derek finally knew.  He knew he couldn't follow Stiles' wishes.  He couldn't sit by.  He knew he couldn't let what was happening go on any further; not as an alpha, not to a pack member, and not to Stiles. But _most_ importantly, Derek finally knew. 

      _He knew he was in love with Stiles_. 

     So when he had to turn his back on the boy he loved and leave him with a monster, Derek was determined not to make it in vain.  He was leaving so he could change it.  

     Walking to where his car was parked a block or two from the house, Derek pulled out his phone.  He thumbed through his contacts and started the call.  On the third ring, the line connected. 

     "Dude, I'm in class." Scott said. "This better be important."

     "It is." Derek responded. "I need you to get the entire pack to the loft tonight after school.   _Immediately_  after school." 

     "Uh, okay. I'll spread the word."  Without any further conversation, Derek hung up and Dialed the next number.  Breathing in preparation, Derek listened as the phone rang.  Stiles was going to kill him for this. 

     "Derek." The voice greeted with kindness. "What can I help you with, son?" Derek closed his eyes as he let himself into his car.  Sitting down, he spoke.  

     "Sheriff, we need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go! Finally, the "minor sexual abuse" tag is implemented. And I wanted to give a little bit on the subject.
> 
> I felt as though Tom wouldn't abuse Stiles in that manner usually, with a couple reasons in my mind. The first being that Tom is not mentally unstable in that aspect. He does not have any kind of attraction for Stiles, or need for touch like that. He is not that particular kind of monster. Another reasoning behind the act in general, is that Tom was just aiming to HURT Stiles. He hates him so much for taking away Claudia (or believing he did) that he finds himself in constant need of taking anger out. He couldn't handle the death and as result, he has decided to take his pain out on the boy (More on that later!). So in that moment, he knew he had another vantage point over the boy: Derek. He knew he could now use the idea of Derek over Stiles, and in this case, it was the physical relationship between the alpha and Stiles. He saw something Stiles loved and he thought he could tarnish it. Destroy it. So he did what he did to Stiles out of anger, not lust or want or anything like that. 
> 
> Whew. Lots of thoughts, haha. 
> 
> OH! ALSO, the next chapter will also be in Derek's POV!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of fun writing two fics at once! And man do I want to write a lot more of Pappa Stilinski and Derek feels! The time will come, I swear.

     "What's this about?" The sheriff asked.  He seemed skeptical.  In all honesty, Derek thought, he  _should_ be skeptical. The man had only recently found out about werewolves ( _that_ was an interesting night).  Derek knew the sheriff was being as cautious as he needed to be, but the man had no clue what was about to happen.  Derek took a calming breath before he spoke.

     "How soon can you be home?" Derek asked.  There was a moment of pause from the other line.

     "Why?" Derek opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted. "Oh my God, is it Stiles? Is he okay? Derek, is my son okay?" The sheriff's voice was readily getting more and more scared as he went on.  Derek wished he could say something that would calm the man down, but in reality, Mr. Stilinski was worrying correctly. 

     "Stiles is fine." It really killed Derek to say that, because he wasn't fine in any sense of the word. "Well, Stiles _will_ be fine. But you really need-" There was a hurried rustling from the other end and some banging around.  There was heavy breathing and it sounded like the sheriff was running. 

     "Derek, stop beating around the bush. Just  _tell me my son is alright."_

     "Mr. Stilinski, trust me, I want to say that.  I want to say that but you need to come home.  He isn't in any immediate danger I think." Derek was trying his best to stay calm.  He couldn't have himself freaking out over Stiles' current state, let alone make the boy's father emotional as well. 

     " _Derek!"_ The sheriff almost roared.  Derek could hear the sound of a car door shutting, or rather, slamming. He was already leaving.   Derek wasn't surprised at the hurriedness.  Stiles was all the family the man had.  Of course he would drop what he was doing at the sound of anything being wrong with the boy. 

     "Mr. Stilinski, I need you to  _stop. Listen to me."_ Derek forced himself to take control.  He may not be the man's alpha, but Stiles was pack, and his father was under his protection by association.  He couldn't let this go on. When the other line was silent besides the sound of a speeding car, Derek spoke. "Stiles, in this moment, is fine.  There is no invading pack, there is no supernatural element in this.  He did not get in a car accident, he did not get shot, but he  _is_ in need of you right now.  Trust me when I say you don't need to be hearing this over the phone.  What you need to do, is drive here as quickly, and  _legally_ as you can. I will tell you everything once you're back here, alright?" Derek did his best to keep the emotions out of the issue at hand.  He had to get Stiles' father back here so they could deal with Tom.  Whether it was by arresting him, or slaughtering him.    

     "I don't understand." Was all the sheriff responded with.  It sounded like the man was quickly running out of patience and Derek's heart hurt over it.  But if Stiles' father knew about what was happening, he would be in no state to drive.  He needed the man to be coherent enough to get back to Beacon Hills safely.  If that meant he needed to keep the man out of the loop until he was standing in front of him, Derek would do it. 

     "I know, Sir.  I will watch over him, but please get here as soon as possible."

     "Trust me, Son.  Nothing could stop me from getting back to him."  Derek felt himself shiver slightly at the intensity of Mr. Stilinski's words.  In the two sentences, Derek had felt all of the man's sincerity, threats, anger, confusion, and love.  Derek had no doubt in his mind that when he found out about Tom, there will be more than himself wanting to kill the bastard. "But the moment I am back, you will explain _everything_ about this.  I will come to my son, and I _will_ find out what the _hell_ is going on."  Derek knew now was not the time to get worked up over someone giving him orders in any form.  Biting back his alpha side, Derek agreed.

     "Yes, Sir."  He said strained.

     "Expect me back by ten.  I'm headed to the station here now so I can get things settled before leaving.  I can't just leave yet; there could be actual legal issues."  The man didn't sound happy about it in the slightest.  If Derek was right, and he knew he was, the man wanted to be on the road towards home right that instant. Besides, ten was much earlier than he had expected.  

     "I will be waiting."  

     "Derek, I don't know what the hell is happening, and I am scared shitless right now, but _you take care of my son_." Now there was an entire new slew of emotions in the voice over the phone: fear, regret, panic, ferocity, determination, _trust_.  Derek felt even more protective over Stiles now.  His wolf was clawing up his insides to turn the car around and take Stiles from that house.  And as much as he wanted to, and God he wanted to, Derek needed to get everything in order.  First step was getting his father on his way back.  Next was getting the pack in the know.  He bit down on every instinct he had, only being able to do so by imagining what he will let himself do to Tom soon enough.  It shouldn't be too hard to convince Stiles' father to let him choose Tom's fate.  

     "I will."  And with that, the two hung up.  

***

     Pulling up to the loft, Derek was still tense from the conversation he had over the phone.  Pushing down any feelings of nervousness or fear, Derek walked straight up to his home.  He had a job to do: as an alpha, a friend, and a boyfriend.  He was doing this for Stiles, and though the boy may hate him for a while if he went behind his back to get people in the know, so be it.  Derek would rather have an angry safe Stiles over a scared unsafe one.  Striding into the loft, Derek shut the metal door with a clang behind him.  He knew his own uncle was home and he needed to find out as well.

     "Peter." Derek called.  There was no need to try and sugar coat this.  Peter needed to know, that was all.  The man had no tie to Stiles, so Derek didn't suppose the man would be too reactive, but he was still pack.  Derek didn't have to wait long for the man to come walking down the spiral staircase in the corner.  Derek gestured to the living room and the man before him quirked an eyebrow, but followed his order.

     "What can I help you with?" Peter drawled.  Derek was not in the mood.  His eyes flashed once to warn Peter, and to his surprise, Peter seemed to get something was up.  "Well Derek, no need to get all defensive.  Why don't you tell me what the problem is."  Peter sat back further into the couch, getting comfortable.  It didn't fool Derek, though.  He could see the tenseness in his uncle's shoulders.  The man may be strange and annoying and a prick, but Peter was intent on not letting another fire or other threat come near the pack.  He could be trusted with this.

     "Stiles."  Derek responded.

     "Marital issues already?  Don't you think it's a little early for that?" Peter was trying to sound nonchalant, but Derek could see he was interested and a little confused.  

     "I found out some..troubling news." Derek chose his words carefully. "It seems that his uncle has been..abusing him."  There was not a word better for it.  It was abuse, no other way around it.  The man was attacking Stiles.  A boy he was supposed to be taking care of, supposed to be loving and caring for. It made Derek's skin crawl.  What Derek was not expecting, however, was the reaction he got from Peter.

     "What?" The man said.  He had responded only after a brief pause.  He had an unreadable expression on his face. 

     "Stiles has been staying with his uncle because his father is out of town with work-"

     "Yes, Derek. I am aware.  Explain what you mean about the boy's uncle."  Peter seemed to be quickly losing any patience he pretended to have. 

     "Tom has been abusing Stiles.  For years, apparently.  I..walked in on Stiles last night and saw the marks." Derek gulped, but went on.  "I called the sheriff and he is on his way back."  Derek had closed his eyes somewhere in the admission and when he opened them, he was surprised to see Peter's eyes blazing a bright blue.  "Peter?" Derek asked.  He was confused why the man was acting like this.

     "I will kill him." Peter snarled.  "I will claw his lungs from his chest and watch them _deflate in my hands_." Peter stood up, moving towards the door.

     "Peter, stop!" Derek yelled.  He rushed in front of the older man and placed to hands on his shoulders, stopping him.  Peter struggled for a moment, but gave up, looking at Derek.  "Don't you think I want to do that?  Don't you think I want to murder that fucker?  I do.  God _damn_ it I do.  But we can't do that.  Yet.  We need the sheriff back here.  Stiles doesn't know I am even telling anyone about what I found out.  He will be furious at me, but I don't care.  We need to get everyone in the know, and wait for Mr. Stilinski.  He will get back tonight and then we can decide what to do."

     "We don't have to decide anything.  I am going to kill. Him." Peter said. His fangs were starting to protrude slightly. 

     "Peter! Calm down!" Derek flashed his eyes, a warning.  He could feel his own teeth start to elongate.  Seeing Derek start to shift as well, Peter seemed to grasp a hold on the situation.  He huffed angrily, but took a step back, severing the connection between the two.  He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, they were their usual color.  He stalked back and forth behind the couch and Derek stayed by the door in case the man got angry again and wanted to go after Tom. "We will figure this out." Derek said.

     "I know." Peter frowned.  Derek was still shocked to see him acting this way.

     "I wasn't expecting you to..respond like this." Peter stopped pacing at looked at Derek.

     "Derek, I am well aware of what everyone thinks of me.  What my own nephew thinks of me." Derek felt a little pang of guilt over this.  He didn't think Peter had any care about how he was seen by the rest of the pack.  "The pack annoys me.  They are almost entirely made up of children, Derek.  They are loud and irksome and messy.  But they are  _pack."_ Peter stared significantly at Derek with the word.  "You should know how important they are to me.  You should know how important this _pack_ is to me." Derek opened his mouth but his uncle continued. "Do not think for an instant that I would not fight tooth and nail for any member, Stiles included.  He has always been the most irritating, but the most...interesting to me.  He's smart and resourceful; a great addition to the pack."  Peter stepped towards the couch and placed his hands on the back of it, leaning forward slightly.  "And considering he is now dating my nephew and _alpha_ , forgive me if I am slightly inclined to walk into that house and tear the boy's uncle limb from limb."  Derek was speechless.  

     "Peter..." His uncle placed up a hand in the air to stop Derek from continuing.  

     "Look.  No need to get into this..feeling, concept.  We have things to take care of.  Tell me how you plan to tell the others." With that, Peter resumed pacing behind the couch, a much more calculating look on his face.  

     Derek began to tell Peter the plan of informing the rest of the pack, and couldn't help but feel much closer to the man than he had in years. 

***

     Derek was silently pleased at how quickly the pack arrived after school got out.  Derek wondered slightly if they had actually left early in order to get there as soon as possible.  Either way, Derek was happy to know Scott had followed his orders.  Derek was standing in the center of the living room, already poised for authority.  Surprisingly enough, Peter was sitting on the couch next to him.  Normally the man would have been found lounging on the other side of the room or absent all together.  Certainly he wouldn't be this close, but Derek knew it was because of why the pack was gathering.  Peter knew when it was important.  And this was important. 

     When the door opened, a confused and slightly worried Scott walked in with the rest of the crew in tow.  Each member had varying shades of worry or emotion on their faces.  The trio of Isaac, Boyd, and Erica looked much less energetic as they usually did; each of them sporting a calculating look.  Allison mirrored Scott's expression, and Lydia and Jackson looked equally skeptical.  Silently finding their places, the pack gathered around their alpha, waiting for him to speak. Derek let himself look over the crew once, taking in their state.  They had no idea what was about to happen.  No idea what was happening to Stiles.  

     Part of Derek didn't want to cause them the emotional pain he had just discovered, himself.  But this was for Stiles. So he said it quickly.

     "Stiles uncle has been abusing him."  There was silence after Derek had uttered the words.  After the split second it took for it to click, it was chaos.

     "What?!" Scott stood up.    

     "What the hell are you talking about?" Erica quipped.  

     "Are you sure about that?" Jackson asked, looking annoyed but still concerned.  Lydia immediately turned to the boy and started talking with him quickly, and the two were lost in a loud conversation while the others around continued to yell. 

     "Oh my God!  Derek how do you know?!" Allison's hand was on Scott's shoulder. 

     "What are we going to do?" Boyd asked.   The entire room was filled with aggravated conversation and questions.  Derek's eyes fell on Isaac, who was looking down at this hands, with a very blank expression on his face.  He was biting at his lower lip, and shaking lightly.  

     "Isaac?"  At Derek's address, the room fell silent and everyone turned towards the boy.   The werewolf looked up at Derek, the curls of his hair lining his watery eyes.  He was so clearly upset, it actually hurt a little to look at him.  Derek waited for a response.  After Isaac opened and closed his mouth a couple times, he spoke. 

     "I'm sorry, Derek."  That was all he said.  Just a quiet apology.  Derek was taken aback at it and cocked his head.

     "Why are you sorry, Isaac?"  Talking to the pack about what was going to happen next could wait.  Right now, he wanted to figure out why Isaac was apologizing to him about this.  

     "I thought something was wrong."  Isaac's eyes fell back to his lap. That's when it clicked in Derek's mind. "When I saw him after practice the other day, I thought-I thought he was..being hurt.  By someone.  I didn't know who it was though.  I kept trying to see if it was a member of the team doing it, but I never really got the chance to check again.  He hasn't been at practice the past couple days."  Isaac was sounding so contrite, it was breaking Derek's heart.  

     "Isaac, no.  You came to me, remember?"  Derek knew the boy had done the right thing.  When Isaac had felt Stiles in a lot of pain, the boy had come to Derek immediately, telling him something was wrong.  If anything, Derek should have looked into it further than he had. But he was so caught up in Stiles and the feelings he was having for him. "Isaac, hey.  Look at me."  The alpha walked up to Isaac, and kneeled in front of him.  "You did the right thing.  You tried to help him.  Thank you."  Derek gave a small smile, trying his best to comfort the boy when he really wanted to get at Tom even more for causing another injury to someone he cared about. 

     "Hold on.  Hold  _on."_ Derek stood up and turned to see an angry Scott.  "I don't get what is going on.  What do you  _mean_ his uncle is abusing him?"  Scott turned to Isaac, then. "And when the hell did you see him hurt?"  Isaac dipped his head down again and Derek drew Scott's attention back to him. 

     "I  _mean,_ Scott, that Tom Stilinski is abusing Stiles.  I found him completely covered in bruises _so_ bad that he could barely get out of bed, and that was _with_ my help." Scott glared back.

     "Tom wouldn't do that.  Why the hell would the man Stiles has always talked about being one of the best people in the world, suddenly beat the shit out of him?" Derek just stared at the boy. 

     "I didn't say this was sudden."  Scott took a beat before continuing. 

     "What is that supposed to mean?" He looked a little scared now, but the anger was still very present in his voice. 

     "Scott, this isn't something new.  Stiles told me this has been happening since he was eight years old."  Derek's voice was firm, but calm.  He didn't want to sound angry right now.  He needed to save that for later. Everyone in the room gave a collected intake of air: a gasp. 

     "No." Scott shook his head.  "No, there is no way that's true. I would have known that."  Scott was out right pissed now.  His voice was reaching the a really high volume and Derek tried to not flash his eyes in dominance.

     "Scott, he was hiding it from all of us."  Derek said through clenched teeth.

     "I can see why  _you_ would miss it, but not me!" Scott yelled.

     "Scott, calm down.  You know how good Stiles is at telling lies and letting facts slip by.  He hid it. From _all_ of us." Derek tried his best not to get angry over the little jab Scott had just said.

     "No! You're wrong! There is no fucking way I could have missed this!  There is no way he told _you_ this!" Scott's eyes were glowing and that was it.  That was all Derek was going to take.  Flashing his own eyes, Derek screamed back at him.

     "Maybe if you weren't so damn obsessed with your girlfriend, you _would_ have noticed! As I understand it, Stiles has been feeling left behind by you for a _long_ time now.  If you would have taken a step back and see how you are leaving him behind, maybe he would have _told_ you! Maybe I wouldn't have had to catch him off guard and see his purple and black body! He was fucking _covered_ , Scott.  His eye was swollen shut and Stiles could even _eat_ because his stomach was so fucking hurt.  So don't you dare try and play me finding out as surprising.  Don't you _dare_ pretend to have been a good friend to him, because we all know that is fucking _bullshit_.  Don't push your own insecurities and personal fuck-ups onto Isaac or me or any other member of the pack but _yourself_!" Derek was seething.  He panted as he ended the tirade and Scott looked taken aback, but still mad. "I am not saying Tom doing this was your fault. I'm not.  And It was not Isaac's.  If anything, Isaac almost got it figured out before I did. But why Stiles didn't tell you specifically, Scott, is something you will have to fucking figure out with him at a later time. We cannot focus on that right now.  What we need to do, is get Stiles out of there." He let his eyes fall back to their usual color now that Scott had done the same.  The boy sat back down on the couch with a miserable expression on and Allison quietly sat next to him.  He knew Stiles didn't feel any animosity towards Allison for Scott being an idiot, so neither did Derek.  As if she knew he was thinking about her, she spoke.

     "Is that why he hasn't been at school?" Allison didn't sound like she was seriously asking.  It was as though she already knew.  If anything, she was trying to deny it.  That maybe if she asked it in a question, then there was a chance she was wrong.  Derek gave a quick nod, and everyone seemed to sink into their seats.  

     "Why the hell are we just sitting here?" Erica spoke up.  

     "I needed to tell you all what has been happening.  I won't go into detail on any of the incidents I have heard about, but you need to know that you all finding out is not part of Stiles' plan.  If it were up to him, I wouldn't even know.  He's pretty set on it being his fault."  Derek noticed how Isaac seemed to flinch a little at the last sentence.  The boy must be reliving his own childhood.  There were so many similarities between Isaac and Stiles right now.  Isaac probably knew a lot of what Stiles was going through, actually.  Maybe Derek would have to have the two sit down and talk.  Well, if Stiles let that happen. 

     "Well isn't that a load of bullshit." Lydia mumbled.  There were some agreeing noises and Derek continued.

     "I called the sheriff and he is on his way back.  He doesn't know what is going on, but I told him Stiles needed his father back here as soon as possible.  He will get in around ten tonight.  In the mean time," Derek didn't want to leave any room for chaos.  If he let anyone not have a task at hand, people would start thinking too much and the situation would start overwhelming everyone.  A group of friends dealing with an abused member was hard enough, but make it a group of werewolves, and the urge to protect pack would become almost unstoppable.  If he kept the members knowing they were helping get Stiles away from Tom, there would be less carnage.  "I need everyone to follow some directions.  Lydia and Jackson, you two will be in charge of making sure Jackson's father is available in case we need a lawyer.  You obviously can't say anything about why he may be needed because we don't know what the next step will be once Stiles' father gets here, but make sure he's an option."  Jackson nodded and Lydia followed his lead.  Derek didn't know if Mr. Stilinski was going to want to proceed in legal ramifications or not.  There was the very strong possibility the man was going to kill Tom himself, but even still, a lawyer would be needed to clear any charges on the sheriff.  Self defense or something to cover. "Boyd, Erica, and Allison, you will go over to Stiles' house and get some things ready in an overnight bag and make sure the house is in perfect condition.  I don't think it will be needed, but I want Stiles to have enough stuff if he needs to stay here.  And the last thing they will need is a messy house to come home to during a time this difficult. It's more precaution than anything and the cleaning may be a little overboard, but I want all bases covered." Derek had never dealt with this kind of stuff before, and he was kind of going in blind.  For all he knew, the boy would be stuck at the police station for hours, if not a couple days, for questioning. Maybe his father would soon be caught up in legal things and the boy would need somewhere to stay.  Derek would immediately offer his loft, specifically his own bed, but Stiles would need clothes.  It was kind of scary because this situation was all just one big question mark.  "Peter, I want you to take Scott out and go run the perimeter."  Peter quirked an eyebrow in question.  "I do not need any ill-timed rogues intruding on our territory when a pack member is in trouble."  It was true; Derek could not afford to have any other wolves trying to make their way into Hale territory.  But more than that, he needed Peter and (more importantly) Scott to cool down.  They could not be out of control or even too emotional when they got Stiles out of his Uncle's. "Isaac, I want you to stay here with me. We have some things to go over." Originally, Isaac was going to go help Boyd and Erica with the packing while Allison went with Jackson and Lydia, but seeing the way Isaac reacted, Derek wanted to talk with the boy a little more.  Maybe he could help Isaac feel better, and the boy could help Derek decide how to continue.  Isaac had a lot of experience with this.  And that still made Derek's stomach twist uncomfortably. 

     "What are you going to do?" Scott asked.  The others all looked from Scott to Derek, wondering themselves.

     "While everyone is getting their tasks accomplished, I am going to make sure things are ready here.  At 8:00 I am going to Stiles' uncle's house." Derek took the time to look each member of his pack in the eyes.  "And I am going to get Stiles out of there."

     Looking at everyone, Derek could see it.  The need to get Stiles away from his uncle.  Derek knew every fiber of the people around him wanted to tear out of that room and grab the boy.  They each wanted to kill Tom.  Not just kill. _Murder_. Underneath the immediate worry for Stiles and the feel of a job needing to be done, there was a humming.  A buzzing.  And the pack knew they needed to stay calm enough to get their jobs done.  They needed to work together in order to get Stiles into safety.  But that _sizzle_ below the surface.

     It was their _rage_.

     It was a coil, taught and ready to spring.  It was a caged animal ready to be released.  Derek could feel the pulse in him.  His wolf was fueled by the feel of it.  The sheer fury in each and every pack member -in that moment- was monstrous.  But their pack member came first.  Their pack member needed them.  Until he was safe, they would stay collected.

     Derek knew the list of who wanted to kill Tom was getting longer and longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Peter has been creepy for almost the entire fic, but I wanted to develop him a little more. Yeah, he is still a weird-o, but the man (at least in this universe) is good at heart. He has a good core, even if he IS a little strange on the outside. :]


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Man, I have been DYING to get this sucker out. I am really really excited for you all to read it. Also, this is not a pleasant chapter. Nope. Not pleasant at all. 
> 
> P.S. including this update, there is at least five more chapters coming. :]

     The spray of the shower rained down on Stiles' scalp.  He was facing the shower nozzle and hung his head, letting the water run down his skull and drip into his line of sight, threatening to verge into his eyes.  Not caring enough, Stiles just blinked slowly at the droplets collecting at the edge of his vision. He had successfully gone through the remaining half a bottle of body wash.  Maybe it was excessive, but Stiles couldn't wash the grime off his body.  He had drained the entire bottle, just trying to rid himself of some of the filthy layers he was consumed with.  Even now, with his body rubbed raw, Stiles wished he had more soap to run over himself.  His arms were laying at his sides, not even trying to pretend to care.  He was telling himself that he was fine.  

     He had been doing that for years, though.  Stiles had been trying to cram that into his head since he was eight years old.  The only thing that had succeeded in sticking with him, was the notion that his mother's death, his father's disappointment, and the beatings were all his fault. Stiles closed his eyes, breathing in this his mouth, not wanting to inhale stray water through his nose. God, it was so frustrating.  Stiles knew he was a logical person; if it were anyone but himself, he would swear up and down it was not the kid's fault.  But the rationality of it didn't matter.  For him, it just made sense.  And he hated that.  God, he hated how his uncle had successfully made Stiles feel like everything that had happened was because of himself.  Stiles groaned, trying to expel some of his frustration and pain.  He wanted to believe it wasn't him.  He wanted to just let it click.  

     It shouldn't be this hard.  Stiles should just be able to recognize that he wasn't at fault here.  There was no reason for him to just latch onto his uncle's words, but he  _did._ And that was why Stiles felt so...ashamed.  He knew he shouldn't feel like this, and so it was just adding to the complicated situation.  Now that Derek knew, it only made him feel worse.  Because Derek knew just as much as Stiles that the boy wasn't responsible.  The only difference, is that Derek believed it.  So yeah, he was ashamed.  He didn't deserve Derek.  He didn't deserve someone so strong and caring and loving and amazing as Derek.  And yet, Derek wanted him.  Derek wanted _Stiles_. 

     A lot of him wanted to deny it; he wanted to deny Derek had any inclination towards him.  But Stiles had done that at the beginning, and that quickly got cleared up.  Stiles was a little surprised by it, yes, but he knew Derek really did want him. 

     The concept made Stiles dizzy.  He blushed just at the thought of Derek and him being in a relationship.  It made him so unbelievably happy. 

     But it also made Stiles sick for letting this gone on.  For letting his uncle continue to do this.  Derek deserved someone better than Stiles: someone who wasn't as badly injured and broken.  

     That was it.

     That was  _it._ Derek didn't deserve this kind of Stiles.  And he did  _not_ deserve someone who let themselves be beat constantly.  So Stiles made a choice right there in the shower.  It was a freaking weird place to have a revelation, that was for sure, but Stiles didn't care.  Because it just made sense.  

     Every single time he had ever thought about himself being with Derek, he had felt guilty over being abused.  Frankly, he always felt guilty for being abused because those closest to him didn't need that kind of darkness in their life.  And thinking about Derek just now (yes, in the shower, with water running down his face, and feeling disgusting after his uncle groped him) had made something in his body click.  Because this entire time, and yes, the  _entire_ time, Stiles had been telling himself that he shouldn't feel a certain way.  He shouldn't feel responsible for all that has happened.  That he shouldn't feel like this.  But all of that was slightly skewed.  It made sense, but there was something stopping him from getting help.  Because even though all of his chants in his head were completely valid, he was stopping them from taking root.  

     And that was because he was thinking all of them for _himself_. 

     Stiles had been trying to convince himself to stop feeling like shit or to fucking try and get help _for his own sake_.  And that was just....that was just bullshit.   Because of course that wouldn't work.  Because if Stiles knew one thing about himself, it was that he would do anything for those closest to him.  So telling himself to get a grip for his own sanity was about as helpful as a boat in the desert.  So yes, in that shower, thinking about Derek, Stiles finally got it.  

     No, he would not change for himself.  He _could_ not change for himself.  But he would for others.  Because while doing so would just open a whole fucking can of worms for himself, it would be better for everyone else.  His father did not deserve a son with an abusive uncle.  Scott (even if he wasn't happy with the kid) did not deserve a best friend who had to hide bruises.  And Derek, oh God, Derek most definitely did not deserve a broken boyfriend. 

     Stiles kept his eyes closed, and lifted his head enough so that the water was falling directing onto his face. It was hot, but not uncomfortably so.  

     If he was about to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, he was about to feel everything he had been avoiding for years.  He would feel the guilt over his mother, his father, his friends, the weakness of letting it happen in the first place, of not getting help earlier, and so many other unwanted things.   But if he did this, it would help his loved ones.  Because Derek found out, and it was only a matter of time before others discovered it or (worse) his uncle would cause Derek to take action.  Stiles didn't want to delve too much into that idea because he wasn't sure if he necessarily _disliked_ the idea of Derek going after Tom. 

     But it all came down to a few simple things: Stiles didn't want this to go on any more (it was literally too painful), his loved ones deserved to know, the sooner it happened meant the sooner it would be over, and lastly, Stiles would go against everything he felt, for his loved ones. 

     Stiles shut the water off.  So this was it.  He was going to do this.  What 'this' was, he wasn't exactly sure.  But Stiles knew that things were going to change.  He was going to change for everyone: his friends, his dad, for Derek.  

     Grabbing a towel, Stiles got to work with thinking out his next plan of action.....as well as a plan in general.

***

     Stiles didn't care about what he put on his body.  If it were any other time, Stiles knew he would have covered up in a sweatshirt or some other kind of hoodie because the bruises from the most recent beating had actually extended past the point where short sleeve shirts could hide.  But today was not going to be like the others.  He still didn't have a complete plan, but by the time Stiles had dried off and made it to his bedroom, he knew that he didn't have to worry about doing the usual aftercare.  It was a strange feeling not to rub himself raw with vinegar water to help heal the bruises, but Stiles knew this was what he had to do.  It was only about 10:30 at this point.  Derek had left and while Stiles still felt disgusting from what his uncle did, he felt flushed from the kiss he shared with Derek.  And for now, the amazing feeling he had from that was able to outweigh anything his uncle had done after the alpha had left. The tingling in his heart from Derek matched the tingling in his palms.

     He would do this for him.  He would do this for all of them.  

     Stiles was figuring out his first move when his phone started buzzing on the bed.  Closing the door (He wasn't sure why his uncle was leaving him alone but he didn't want to question it), Stiles answered. 

     "Hello?" 

     "Stiles!" His father's voice quickly overtook the other end of the phone.  Stiles didn't like how panicked he sounded. 

     "Is something wrong, Dad?  Are you alright?" Stiles immediately forgot his situation at hand and started to worry about his father.  Was he injured?  Did he get in a car accident?  Jesus, he was hours away and Stiles was stuck in Beacon Hills. "Dad I can be there as soon as I can.  I'm going to start driving right now." Stiles sat on the floor and started getting his shoes on as best as he could while still holding onto his phone.

     "No, Stiles, no I'm alright." Stiles immediately let out a huge sight.

     "Jesus Christ, Dad! You almost gave me a heart attack!" Stiles dropped the shoe he was holding.

     "I was calling to...check in." His dad sounded weird now.  Just a moment before, his sounded really wound up, but now he was talking with a certain caution his voice. 

     "Uh.  Sorry if I'm still a little shaken up from you scaring the hell out of me, but I guess I'm good?"  This was strange.  He usually only talked to his Dad after school on trips like this, if at all. 

     "You sure?"  Why the hell was his dad being so freaking weird?

     "Yeah?  I mean I'm a little hungry, I guess." Stiles tried to find something to appease the apparent worry his father was feeling right now. 

     "Oh, well.  Go get some food." Stiles waited for his dad to continue but he remained silent.

     "Dad, you're being really weird..." Stiles murmured. 

     "Sorry, long night last night, I'm a little-I'm a little wound up."  Stiles didn't doubt it.  The man was working on an important case for that county and they probably had him running around like crazy. 

     "Well try and not let them run you dry.  I would like a father with at least some of his sanity left when he comes back."  Stiles tried a little joke.  His father gave out a chuckle but it didn't sound like it was fully authentic. 

     "Yeah, Kiddo.  You and me both."  His father's voice was a little stiff when he called him 'Kiddo' and it kind of made Stiles' heart hurt.  

     "Okay, well.  I guess I will see you soon?"  Stiles didn't like that with his new mindset, he was probably going to be right about that.  Sure, he wants his father back, but the circumstances won't likely be good.  

     "Yeah, I'll be home soon." His father's voice sounded a little rough.  This whole conversation was strange and slightly emotional.  It kind of took Stiles off guard. 

     "I love you, Dad." Stiles offered.

     "I love you too, Son.  So much."  And with that, they hung up.  For such a random and seemingly harmless call, Stiles felt like he just swallowed a rock.  His stomach was heavy with strange feelings and his throat was tight with the same. 

     Stiles knew he needed to get his father back home.  And the only way to do that, would be to tell him.  But even before _that_ happened, he needed to tell the others.  Okay, that seemed simple enough, right?

     Maybe not so much.  Telling them all was going to go from calm to crazy very quickly.  Everyone would probably get angry at him for not saying anything earlier.  But if Stiles had Derek with him when he did it, maybe everyone would behave more.  God, even thinking about doing this was making Stiles nervous.  His hands were flat out buzzing and his stomach was clenching uncomfortably.  Another aspect Stiles needed to think about, was that once the pack knew, they probably wouldn't let him out of their sights.  It certainly wasn't the worst thing that could happen; a group of protective werewolves making sure you didn't get hurt.  But it would be an issue when it came to him needing to be back to his uncle's house for the night. Wait, that was it. How could he have missed such an easy solution? 

     If Stiles was about to let everyone know what Tom had been doing, who cares if he didn't stay here anymore? The fact that Stiles was wondering how he would get the pack to let him come back here was ridiculous.  There was no point in it because the pack flat out would not allow it.  And the more Stiles thought about it, the more he agreed.  If he could get out of this damn house, almost all of his immediate problems would vanish.  He would be safe at the loft with Derek (he was sure the man would let him stay, if not insist he did) and his uncle would have no clue where to find him.  

     The only problem -and it was a big problem- was that he needed to actually get out.  It was a Tuesday and while there was supposed to be another weekly pack meeting, Stiles knew his uncle would forbid him to leave looking like he did.  His eye was still very swollen and his body was extremely tattered and bruised.  NO way would he be able to step foot outside the house let alone go to a pack meeting until the swelling and discoloration had left.  

     So Stiles first and only part of his plan was to get out of the house.

*** 

     The rest of the day went by without much instance.  His uncle never made Stiles come back downstairs (even to make lunch).  Every once in a while, Stiles would hear the man move around below him, but for the most part, Stiles was left to himself all day.  Stiles wasn't complaining about that.  He had stayed in his room unless he needed to use the bathroom. Stiles even went without food in order to stay out of sight.  He had been texting Derek throughout the day, and the man was replying quickly.  Stiles supposed the alpha hated having him stay with his uncle.  The only thing making Stiles okay with the frustration Derek was clearly going through was the thought that soon enough, Stiles would be out of the house and with Derek.  Soon enough, things could start getting back to normal. 

     Stiles was midway through texting Derek again when his uncle finally called for him.

     "Boy! Get your ass down here right now!"  Stiles stiffened immediately.  How the hell was he this angry already?  Not wanting to make it worse, Stiles tuck his phone into his pocket and headed down the stairs slowly thanks to his body.  Emerging from the hallway, Stiles saw his uncle standing in the living room.  Stiles knew this was a bad sign if the man wasn't sitting like normal. The man was in the middle of the room, arms crossed. "What the hell is your father calling me for?"  Stiles opened his mouth and shut it.  He honestly had no clue.  Stiles knew his father was acting strange on the phone, but he had no clue why the man would call his uncle.  Stiles didn't think he had sounded distressed to his father, so he was completely as confused as Tom. 

     "I-I don't know, Sir." Stiles answered truthfully. Tom rolled his eyes and Stiles saw his arms flex in irritation. 

     "Then why the hell did my brother just call me asking if you were 'alright'?" The man's voice sneered at the word and Stiles felt his heart sink.  What the hell was going on?  

     "I promise, Sir. I honestly don't know."  Stiles was trying his best to convey how truthfully he was unaware.  "He called me today but was acting strange.  He said it had been a long night and was probably just stressed. He seemed really out of it to me."  Stiles let the words fall out of his mouth, trying to back himself out of a corner.  His uncle looked at him for a long moment before speaking again. 

     "I don't know what the fuck you're up to, but you had better knock it off right now.  Or so help me." Tom didn't even bother finishing the sentence and Stiles knew he didn't have to. "Get back upstairs. I don't want to see you until you come down and make dinner. Understand?"  Stiles was still reeling from what had just happened. "Understand?!" His uncle screamed this time. Stiles quickly nodded and quickly retreated back to his room. Stiles wished he could lock the door but was forced to simply close it.  It added barely any reassurance but Stiles would take what he could get. Stiles sat on his bed and tried to come up with a reasonable explanation why his father was freaking out, when the texts started.  

     At first, he had only been talking to Derek for the day.  But it seemed that about an hour after school got out, the rest of the pack started texting him. None of the conversations had any real merit to them, but it was still strange.  

      _"I think Harris is starting to miss you!"_ Allison said. 

      _"Do you know any good pizza places?"_ Boyd had asked.

      _"Personally, I don't think Derek has any idea how badly his loft needs more blankets."_ Isaac mentioned. Everyone had texted him, even Jackson.  Stiles replied to all of them but was confused when the conversations continued.  It was like they all had suddenly needed constant Stiles time.  It was flattering, sure, but Stiles could go without the extra confusion during a day already weird as hell. Scott had texted him as well, and Stiles tried not to focus on how he couldn't find it in himself to reply.  The boy had really hurt Stiles, and he wasn't about to pretend to forgive him. Admittedly, all of the texting made the day go by quickly, even if his thumbs had begun to cramp something fierce. A few hours and hundreds of text messages later, Stiles was called down by his uncle to start dinner.  

     Stiles didn't look Tom in the eye.  In fact, Stiles barely moved more than he needed to.  He made some burgers on the stove and quickly put the food in front of them both.  He could feel his uncle's gaze on him the entire time, but Stiles just ate quietly as he could manage.  Sitting there as still as possible, his uncle finally spoke. 

     "You know, I don't think I have ever met someone so fucking pathetic in my life." Stiles just kept eating.  "Look at you.  Sitting there like a scared child." Stiles took another small bite of his burger. "If only your mother was here to see what a fucking mistake she brought into this world." With the mention of his mother, Stiles' head snapped up.  "What?" His uncle mocked. "You don't like me talking about how your mother brought the saddest excuse for a boy ever?" They weren't his uncle's best thought up insults, but Stiles felt his temper flare up at the mention of his mother.

     "My mother did nothing wrong." He said firmly.  

     "Your mother was a wonderful woman, and her biggest mistake as having you." His uncle shot back. Stiles felt his face quickly flush with anger. 

     "My _mother_ did nothing wrong." He repeated himself with more force this time. "I don't understand why someone who _claims_ to have loved her, can say such garbage about her."  His uncle put his burger down and glared at Stiles with the most hatred he had ever seen.  

     "You don't know what the hell you are talking about, Boy." His uncle spat.  Stiles wasn't sure where his courage had come from, but he used it. 

     "I know you used to be a man I loved with my whole body." Stiles stared right back at his uncle.  "You were kind and gentle and someone I looked up to.  But that man died with my mom and I know she would be _disgusted_ to see who you have become and what you have done to her only child." Stiles stood up and the chair made a harsh noise against the floor.  Stiles walked quickly from the kitchen and heard his uncle swearing after him to get back there. Stiles didn't care.  He didn't listen. Instead, he just kept walking upstairs.  He slammed the door and quickly started to pack his bags.  

     He wasn't sure how long he had before his uncle decided to come up there and teach him a lesson, but Stiles knew he wouldn't get away with how he spoke to the man.  But Stiles knew what he had to do.  He couldn't spend another minute in the house with such a monster.  It was a little earlier than he had planned (he had hoped to do this after his uncle went to bed), but Stiles was getting out _now._  

***

     Stiles started to pack everything he could.  He knew his uncle was bound to come upstairs any minute.  Never had Stiles gone long without punishment after being so blatantly rude.  It didn't happen often, but when it did his uncle would quickly show him who was in charge.  Stiles was midway through putting some clothes in a bag when his uncle started screaming for him to get back downstairs.  

     "You had better get your ass down here right now!" Stiles swung his head around to look at the door, wishing (again) that it had a lock. Looking back at his clothes, he knew there was no point.  If he didn't get out of there right then, he would be in trouble.  So, forgetting the packing altogether, Stiles checked to make sure he had his wallet, keys, and phone before he headed to the window.  It was still unlocked from Derek, and it easily slid open.  Stiles swung a leg onto the roof and quietly got the rest of his body out of the house.  He walked as carefully as he could; werewolves were much more adept at this kind of stuff. Stiles crept to the edge of the roof and looked down.  It wasn't all that high, actually. He was sure he could make it, if he would just get it over with.  He could hear his uncle starting to shout again and Stiles knew he didn't have much time at all.  He heard a crash from inside and that made his decision.  Bracing as best as he could, he jumped from the roof to the ground below.  With a grunt, Stiles landed on the grace near the front porch.  He wanted to catch his breath from the slight jolt, but he knew he was too close to the front door.  He uncle could see him if he didn't move quickly. 

     His foot hurt slightly from the landing (as did the rest of his already terribly sore body), but not enough to where Stiles was slowed down.  He ran to the jeep as fast as he could and hopped in. The whole situation hadn't really sunk in yet.  One moment he was sitting at the table, eating dinner, and the next he was sick and tired of Tom and bringing his mother into things.  He wanted Derek and he wanted his dad and he wanted things to _stop._  So it was brash and improvised, but Stiles didn't care.  Because he had gotten out before his uncle got upstairs.  He was alright.  He had done it.  Soon he would be with Derek and the pack and they could call his dad and he would be home. 

     Stiles turned the key in the ignition, but the engine turned over.  Trying again, it didn't work.  Stiles heart started to sink.  This couldn't happen.  He had gotten away with this thing for months like this.  It wouldn't die yet.  Trying once more, Stiles willed the engine to work.  

     Instead, the jeep didn't even make a sound.  The engine had quit altogether. 

     "You have got to be kidd-" but Stiles didn't get to finish his sentence before the car door was flung open and he was being pulled from the jeep. Landing awkwardly on the grass, Stiles tried to get his bearings. Tom was looking down at him with pure fury in his face.  Still holding onto Stiles by the shirt, he pulled the boy along with him to the house.  "Tom, stop!" His uncle didn't even pretend to listen to him.  He just pulled Stiles along the grass. Stiles tried kicking and swatting his uncle away but the man wouldn't let go. Stiles eventually got his feet under himself and stumbled back into the house with his uncle.  The man threw Stiles to the ground and slammed the front door.  Flicking the deadbolt, Tom quickly made his way to Stiles. 

     "Where the  _fuck"_ Tom emphasized the word with a vicious kick to Stiles side. "do you think you're going?!" He kicked Stiles again and the boy couldn't help but yelp in pain.  "You think" another kick "you can just get _away_?" Tom picked up his foot and brought it down hard onto Stiles' head.  Smacking back into the hardwood, Stiles grunted.  Spots flooded his vision and he tried to regain control of his body. Turning onto his stomach, Stiles started to crawl to the front door.  Tom just stomped down onto his back, making stiles quickly fall in a heap to the floor.  Getting onto his back, Tom took Stiles' head in both of his hands, and slammed his face into the wooden floor over and over.  Stiles couldn't handle seeing the floor come up to meet his nose and forehead, so he closed his eyes.  He tried his best to stop his head from following his uncle's force, but it didn't work.  Slam after slam, Stiles crashed his face into the ground and eventually, he heard a crack before his nose was engulfed in pain. Screaming, Stiles tried harder to get his uncle off him.  He could feel liquid flow from his nose and run down his face onto the floor.  His blood. 

     Seeing the red pool around his face must have been enough reason for his uncle to stop.  He got of Stiles with one last shove into the ground, and spat onto the back of the boy's head. Stiles couldn't see very well but he could make out the shadow of his uncle leave the area.  Turning his head to the side, he saw the man had left him alone like he always does after a beating.  Stiles could barely feel anything but the pain in his face and head, but he got to his feet and stumbled to the door.  Somehow managing to get it open, Stiles braced his hand against the frame of the door, trying to catch his breath.  He was about to step outside when the door came swinging shut again.  The only problem was that his hand was placed in the path of it.  Slamming onto his hand, Stiles howled in pain, knowing he had just broken some bones. Pulling his hand quickly away from the door, Stiles clutched it to his chest. The door was flung shut for good this time and Stiles was grabbed by the shoulders by Tom.  

     "What? That wasn't enough of a lesson for you?!" He bellowed in his face.  Stiles tried to step backward but his uncle launched a punch into his stomach, nocking the wind out of him. "You're more stupid than I thought."  Stiles was wheezing and Tom shoved him towards the stairs.  Falling onto them, Stiles was too disoriented to fight Tom when he started pulling him up the steps.  Stiles was so out of it, he could only let his head roll back and forth as he was yanked up the stairs.  His head hit the steps every few pulls and eventually they got to the top.  Stiles must have blacked out for a moment because when he opened his eyes again, he was laying on the floor of his uncle's bedroom. "I guess we need to go back to the basics.  Maybe this will remind you to stop when you're behind."  Stiles couldn't see, but he could hear his uncle move around the room.  He heard the closet door open and shut.  Racking his brain for what his uncle could possibly do next, Stiles figured it out just as the first hit of the belt landed on his body. 

     The buckle landed on his collarbone and Stiles yelled at the sudden pain.  He was shocked out of his stupor enough to lurch off the ground and try to get away from the pain.  Instead of tackling him, his uncle just swung the belt more fiercely.  Stiles more or less staggered to the door the best he could.  He would make it a step or two but would end up falling to his knees; blood flowing down from his nose and hand throbbing strongly.  He could hear the swoosh of the belt through the air before he felt the pain.  Each time, the blow would land somewhere else.  Swoosh. Back of his leg. Swoosh.  Shoulder.  Swoosh. Side of his neck. Swoosh. Back. Swoosh. Back. Swoosh. Back. Swoosh. Head.  

     Stiles fell forward with the last blow and groaned when he lifted his good hand to the back of his skull.  Pulling it back, he saw red on his hand.  His body was stinging all over and each mark was quickly flaring up in increasing pain.  He could hear his uncle breathing heavy behind him; the beating was winding him.  Strange how Tom was tiring of attacking Stiles.  

     He had to get away.  Tom had never continued on like this.  He always left Stiles after the initial beating. If he could just get away from him, maybe he would leave him alone.  Stiles willed himself to get off the floor and stumble to the door.  Opening it, Stiles flung himself into the hallway.  He could hear his uncle shouting angrily behind him and Stiles focused on getting away.  He braced his good hand against the wall as he made his way down the hallway but his uncle was quickly gaining on him.  Stiles made it almost to stairs before he was hit with something heavy and thrown into the wall.  Twisting around, he saw it was his uncle that landed into him.  He still held the belt in one hand, but quickly Tom started to pummel Stiles. He landed blows to the boys face and already injured nose.  Trying to help himself, Stiles was able to punch Tom a few times as well.  His fist connected against Tom's face and was satisfied to see it landed on his eye.  Maybe the man would have a swollen face just like Stiles did.  His uncle grunted and took a step back trying to regather his balance. Stiles started turning towards the steps, but his uncle was on him once again.  This time, his hands gripped around Stiles' neck and quickly started to squeeze.  It wasn't a moment before Stiles found it extremely hard to breathe. In fact, his entire air supply had been cut off. Struggling to stay conscious, Stiles brought his hands up to Tom's face and started to claw at him with his nails.  It hurt like a bitch to be moving his broken hand, but Stiles focused on dragging his nails down the man's face.  It must have worked, because Tom released his grip and brought his hands to his face.  Not waiting, Stiles flung his leg up as hard as he could between the man's legs.  His uncle doubled over in a gasp, clutching his groin now.  Gasping for breath, Stiles tried his best to regain control of his body. He had to get out. He had to get out.  

     Taking the first step, Stiles began the descent down.  He was going for the second stair when he felt two hands placed on his back before they shoved hard.  Not expecting it, Stiles fell down the stairs head first.  he landed quickly onto the steps, falling over himself and landing hard on various body parts.  Eventually he ended up on the small platform the stairs had before turning right towards the entry way. Stiles landed with an enormous _thump_. He just laid there awkwardly on the stairs; his stomach laying on the platform while his legs were twisted behind him on the stairs. For a moment, he was just dazed enough not to fully grasp all the pain he was in.  He was vaguely aware of a pulsing in his arm with the injured hand. His head was spinning and from where he was laying, his face was turned towards the entry way.  His bad arm and hand were laying next to him while his other was caught underneath his body.  He moaned as the injuries began to creep up on him.  Blood continued to flow out of his nose and started to accumulate around his face in a small amount.  The carpet was soaking it up slowly, and Stiles could hear his uncle make his way down the stairs. The boy didn't even try to move, and he couldn't help the choked off groans that were escaping his throat.  

     "You never fucking learn, do you?" Was all that Tom said before he raised the belt again.  Stiles couldn't even brace himself before the second round of blows began. Instead of all over his body, these were all centered to his back.  Each one landed and Stiles let out a scream.  He wasn't sure how many time his uncle brought the belt buckle down on his limp body, but Stiles' voice was raw before he had finally stopped.  His back was blazing and he could felt some spots of his shirt stick to his back; he must be bleeding from some of the welts. Stiles' voice had long since given out and all that he could hear was the panting from his uncle and the weak whimpering coming from himself. His uncle stepped over his body and proceeded down the final few steps.  He didn't even turn around when he spoke. "When I get back, you had better be out of my sight."  He tossed the belt onto the floor and left through the front door.  

     Stiles never knew why his uncle would leave the house after a beating.  He had always figured it was to stock up on more booze for the night, but it didn't matter.  It didn't matter because all Stiles knew at this point was pain.  His entire body was screaming and he couldn't tell what was hurting and what wasn't hurting.  He hadn't realized when he had started crying, but now he could feel his eyes burning from the tears falling.  He was starting to feel lightheaded and the sides of his vision were beginning to darken.  He was about to pass out, but he couldn't yet.  The voice in the back of his head told him that he needed to go to the hospital, and fast.  It took every ounce of strength he had to pull his good arm from underneath his body, and pull his phone from his pocket.  It was slow, painful work, but Stiles was able to get the smartphone into a useable position. After a few attempts, Stiles was able to turn the thing on and fumble through the contacts.  He tried to focus as best as he could but the darkness was quickly taking over.  He clicked the call button and placed the phone next to his ear the best he could.  He couldn't quite hear the phone ringing through the blood rushing in his own ears, but Stiles thought he heard the line connect. There was a mumbling on the other line and Stiles just started talking, hoping it made sense.

    "D'rek. Help."  Stiles couldn't say anything else because he had finally succumbed to the darkness and lost consciousness, letting the phone fall from his grip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOTS OF NOTES
> 
> This chapter (and I really hope it worked and you guys caught it!!!) was the inspiration for the fic's title! This is the time when Stiles basically embodies the phrase I decided to label this story with. (Yay for story structure explanations!)
> 
> This chapter, specifically the scene with the jeep, was one of the very first things I had come up with for this fic. I knew what I essentially wanted to write, but I also knew I didn't want to over think it. If I spent too much time deciding on certain lines I wanted or certain descriptions, the chapter wouldn't be as...genuine. I could have written this chapter before posting anything. I could have just had it pre-written, waiting to be posted, but I decided not to do that. My writing has developed in this fic and I feel that the story has truly morphed and changed as I let myself get into the plot. I knew I wanted to wait for this chapter to come up naturally before starting it. This way, I was feeling everything from the previous chapters and the build up to this point. Chapters with such intensities and moments in a story that hold so much significance can quickly be overdramatic or oversimplified. It is a slippery slope, so I made sure to just "go with it". To let myself write what felt best, and what felt best for the moment, and not the overall plot.
> 
> I really hope that came across and I hope you all felt as much in this chapter as I did while writing it. 
> 
> Sorry if this is a crazy amount of notes afterwards, and I hope you weren't too let down by reading my babbling!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been absolutely swamped with school. D: I've been really wanting to write lately but just haven't had the time. However, I'm glad I gave you guys a reason to look forward to an update! Things may get a little crazy these next few updates; probably some POV changes and I'm not 100% everything is going to play out. Strap in everyone! :]
> 
> Also, I mentioned earlier how there would be five (now four) updates before the fic was over. That being said, I have an announcement at the end of this chapter. Dun dun dun DUNNN.

     Derek had let out a small breath he didn't know he was holding when the pack left for their duties.  Only he and Isaac remained in the loft.  Glancing at the young beta, he was sitting on the couch with his hands in his lap and head hung low.  Derek moved slowly over to him and sat on the seat to his left.  He made sure he was close enough on the couch to comfort, but not too close to make the wolf feel constricted.  Neither said anything for moment, and Derek looked at his own hands.  

     "I wanted to say thank you, again."  Derek said quietly, Still not focusing on Isaac; if he did, the boy might feel too much under scrutiny. Out of the corner of his eye though, Derek saw Isaac turn his head towards him. 

     "I still don't really get why you're thanking me." He whispered. "I thought something was wrong, and did nothing."  

     "That's not true." Derek responded.  And he meant it. "You did everything you were supposed to.  You recognized the signs, and you tried to get help.  You came to your alpha instead of pursuing it on your own.  It was a smart choice, Isaac, and I should have looked into it further. You did everything I would have asked you to.  I'm proud of you." Derek let the sincerity fall into his voice.  

     "But if would have gone further, maybe he would be out of there by now." Isaac remarked.

     "Maybe if I hadn't have had my head up my ass, I would have noticed you were right." Derek mentioned.  

     "What do you mean?" Derek took a breath. He guessed now was good a time as any for telling someone in the pack.  He hoped it wouldn't make Stiles mad, but considering he had already gone behind his back for one thing, this wasn't much.  Besides, if Stiles knew this would help Isaac, the boy would probably say it himself. 

     "I have been having...feelings for him." Not wanting to be assaulted with questions, Derek continued quickly. "And I was trying to figure them out when you talked to me about what you saw.  I was so invested in trying to understand what I wanted and if..Stiles wanted anything in return, that I completely failed as an alpha." Derek took a breath. "I'm sorry, Isaac. I let you all down.  I let Stiles down." He turned his face to look at the young man.

     "I don't really know what to say, Derek." Isaac said quietly, surprised. "I mean.  First off, you did not fail.  You were dealing with some pretty intense feelings.  I bet I wouldn't have noticed anything at all if I was in your situation.  But...really?" Isaac's tone lightened slightly. "You like Stiles? The guy you always say is annoying and weird and-"

     "Yes. Yes I do." Derek said quickly and intensely.  He loved Stiles.

     "Huh." Isaac said.  He didn't sound amused or condescending or anything like that.  He just seemed a little surprised is all.  "Well...have you told him?" Isaac asked.  The boy seemed much better now, and Derek was thankful.  But now he was starting to talk about him and Stiles and he was starting to feel his face blush. 

     "Uh...yeah, actually."  Isaac's eyes widened. 

     "And?" He asked excitedly. 

     "And he-he returned the feelings. So it's...official?" Derek couldn't really find the best word for it, but that one seemed to suffice. Isaac was silent for a moment before a huge grin spread out on his face. 

     "Derek, thats great!"  He was openly beaming now, which only made Derek blush further. "Oh wow! Okay.  Okay.  So, you and Stiles, huh? This is. Wow."  Derek rolled his eyes.

     "I'm glad you're okay with it, I am.  But don't tell anyone.  I trust you enough with this Isaac, and I want you to know that.  So please don't say anything because Stiles probably will kill me if others find out and he isn't here to see their reactions.  Besides, we have business to take care of." Derek's voice darkened at this note and Isaac seemed to sober up. 

     "You're right." 

     "You tried helping someone I really care about, and I am thankful, Isaac.  But now we need to work together and get him out.  As a pack.  I can't have him spend another night in that house, and I will be damned if I don't do something." Isaac was clenching his jaw, nodding.  Derek could feel the anger coming off Isaac.  Derek's wolf was preening at the thought of his beta agreeing to help the person his alpha loved so dearly. 

     Only a few more hours and Stiles would be safe. 

***

     The rest of the day went by with an uncomfortable sense to the air.  Even though most of the pack was out following Derek's orders, the alpha could sense all of his members' stress and anxiety.  It was a constant hum in his chest and Derek struggled not to pace around the loft.  He didn't like that every member of his pack was feeling upset, but he knew it was for good reason.

     Derek had been texting Stiles throughout the day just to make sure he didn't lose his mind before he went to get the boy.  Stiles readily replied and the small amount of contact kept Derek sane.  He noticed Isaac was checking his own phone quite a bit while he helped tidy up the loft.  It wasn't exactly messy, but Derek wanted to make sure Stiles would be as comfortable there as possible.  

     When Derek asked about who Isaac was texting, the boy sheepishly responded that he (along with the rest of the pack) was talking to Stiles.  At first, Derek was nervous about overwhelming the boy and tipping him off to the plan, but that quickly died down.  He was overcome with a sense of pride over his pack members.  They were just like Derek; needing confirmation of Stiles wellbeing.  He gave Isaac a small smile and told him he was thankful for everyone doing that, but to make sure no one gave anything away.  Isaac quickly agreed to that.  

     After hours of cleaning and updates from the pack, Derek finally gave word for everyone to return to the loft.  He told the groups to grab some food before coming back.  It was a little after 5:30, so Derek had told everyone he expected to see them in an hour.  That would give the pack about two hours before Stiles was with them.  It would let everyone prepare mentally for the shit storm that was probably going to happen.  Stiles was going to be pissed and confused and most likely scared.  If Derek was in his shoes, he knew he would be.  

     Isaac ordered pizza for him and Derek while everyone else ran to their own food destinations. Derek had decided the loft was clean enough and he found himself drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen while Isaac paid for the food.  Walking into the room with the box in hand, Isaac placed the food on the counter before turning to grab two glasses.  Filling them with water from the sink, Isaac turned to Derek. 

     "Are you okay, Derek?" He as quietly.  The boy had always been observant and gentle and Derek could only imagine what the beta was going through right now.  This had to have been bringing up memories of his own father. 

     "I'm...I don't really know, Isaac." Derek sighed.  It was difficult to talk about his feelings with anyone, let alone someone who wasn't Stiles.  But this boy deserved some actual answers. "I just want Stiles back here with us. With me.  Every part of me is dying to get to him right now, and I don't think I can wait much longer."

     It was more than he usually said, but Derek wasn't feeling up to saying much else.  Isaac seemed to understand.  He nodded and sat next to Derek, eating a slice.  The alpha copied the boys idea and took a piece out of the box. The two stayed mostly quiet for a couple minutes after that.  A general feel of tension was present, but it had an undertone of something else.  Maybe understanding?  It was as though Isaac knew there wasn't much to be done right now.  That he trusted Derek as his alpha to take the next step.  

     "Isaac." Derek said, putting the pizza down on the plate.  Next to him, the beta stilled slightly and turned to face Derek. "I want to let you know that...I understand this is probably difficult for you to be dealing with.  I am thankful for you taking this so well and so strongly, but I don't want you to be overstepping your comfort zone more than you have to." Stiles was clearly the priority right now, but Derek did not underestimate his role as an alpha.  While a member of the pack was in danger, and Derek was in love with said member, he had the others to worry about.  Isaac was still someone he wanted to protect with his whole being.  "I will not question it if you feel the need to step away at any time.  Understand me?" Isaac looked at Derek for a long moment before speaking. 

     "I understand, Derek." He said firmly.  "And thank you.  For...being open about this.  I know what you and Stiles have is probably really personal and not something you want to share with anyone, but thank you.  And knowing you're worried about me is amazing.  It lets me know how lucky I am to have you as my alpha." Isaac gave a small smile to Derek. "But, Stiles is important to me as well.  And you're right; this is hard for me.  I can't stop thinking about my dad and all the...all the shit he put me through.  And yeah, I hate thinking about it, but it just makes me want to get Stiles out of there. He doesn't deserve to be going through anything like that." Isaac's eyes hardened into determination as he kept speaking. "If getting Stiles out of that...hell, means I deal with some bad memories, so be it."  

     Derek had never been more proud of the boy.  Maybe after he had Stiles safe in his arms, Derek would talk to Isaac about helping Stiles get through things.  The two would probably share a lot in common and the could both benefit from each others' company. But he was getting ahead of himself.  First, he had to get Stiles back. And when he did, Derek was going to hold him close and make sure no one would hurt him again.  

     "Okay." Derek said.  He gave Isaac a proud smile, and the boy nodded slightly.  Derek could feel the bond with his beta swell with pride.  They were on the same page. The two wolves turned back to their pizza and seemed to return back into the task at hand.  They still had a mission to complete, and soon it would be time to finally act. 

***

     Derek couldn't find himself to even finish two slices of pizza.  He tried starting his second, but his stomach twisted uncomfortably.  He was pacing back and forth at this point while his wolf howled inside him to just get Stiles.  To lay him down on his bed and scent him enough to make sure everyone knew he was pack, and that he was under Derek's protection.  Isaac had cleaned up the kitchen and sat on one of the barstools, facing the alpha.  The beta looked tense as well as he nervously bit at his nails. He tried to be calm, he really did.  Derek tried to focus on his pack members; feeling them in his bond, but it didn't work.  All Derek could think about was Stiles staying with his Uncle.  He wasn't safe.  The pacing werewolf let out a small growl and stopped in the middle of the room. 

     "That's it." Derek quipped.  Isaac's eyes widened for a moment in surprise and confusion before Derek continued. "It's a little earlier than I planned, but fuck it.  I'm going now." He looked at Isaac and the beta seemed to understand. 

     "Do you want me to go with you?" Isaac asked.  Derek was going to agree readily; Isaac could help with Tom if he somehow got in the way.  Opening his mouth to respond, Derek's phone started to buzz in his hand.  He hadn't had it in his pocket for hours now. He expected it to be Peter or perhaps Boyd, but it was Stiles' name that lit up on the screen.  Derek pressed the answer button quickly. "Stiles?  Everything alright?"  Derek could hear the boy breathing on the other line, and what Derek heard next, made his world come to a stop. 

     "D'rek. Help."  Stiles' voice had come through the speaker horribly labored and almost unrecognizable.  Derek felt himself go cold.

     "Stiles?   _Stiles?"_ Derek yelled through the phone, but the other side was quiet. _"Stiles answer me!"_  Nothing. For a split second, Derek was too consumed with his fear to move, but he quickly got a hold of himself and started to move. His beta was clearly listening in on the short call if his pale face was anything to go by. "Isaac, get everyone to the hospital  _now._ I want you to have Melissa McCall ready for Stiles to come in.  I have no clue what the fuck happened but it's _bad_. _Hurry_."

     Derek was surprisingly articulate when he gave Isaac his new orders.  The beta was already pulling out his phone and calling the first pack member while Derek was running towards the door.  He registered Isaac's own rapid movements around the loft before he was out of sight and sprinting down the stairs to his car.  He tried frantically to get Stiles to answer him on the other line since the call was still going, but there was no response. "God damnit, Stiles. Please. _Please_ answer me. _What the fuck is going on_?" When the silence continued, Derek let out a loud growl and put the phone on speaker.  Setting it in the seat next to him, Derek floored it towards Stiles.  The entire way, Derek didn't stop begging the boy to answer him.  A few times, he thought he heard a cut of groan from the other line, but never a response.  Derek knew his eyes were glowing and he was struggling to keep his claws retracted.  They would flex in and out in pulses as he thought about what he was about to find. 

     Surely, Derek broke dozens of traffic laws, but the man didn't care in the slightest.  All he could focus on was getting to Stiles.  Pulling his car to a screeching and sudden stop, Derek arrived at Stiles' uncle's house.  He could faintly hear one heartbeat in the house, so Tom wasn't there.  Lucky for him since Derek wouldn't hesitate to kill the man right now.  But what scared Derek most, was that Stiles' heartbeat was terrifyingly slow.  Not bothering with the handle, Derek raised his foot and kicked the large front door in. Wood splintered and flew inward while Derek flung himself into the house.  Turning his head around the entry way, his eyes immediately locked in on Stiles' form.

     He was laying awkwardly on the stairs; partially on the steps and partially on the large square platform that turned the staircase's direction.  The boy's limbs were all angled in uncomfortable ways, but the most disturbing thing about seeing stiles was the amount of blood.  The right side of his face was completely covered in it since his head was laying in a small pool of the red liquid. Derek let out a harsh whine as he quickly got to Stiles' side. The skin exposed was covered in terrible welts and the back of Stiles' shirt was also sporting a large red splotch.  Derek didn't know what had happened to cause such, or what had occurred that ended up with the boy he loved to be in such a state, but that didn't matter. Placing a hand gently as he could on Stiles' face, Derek spoke frantically. 

     " _Oh my god, Stiles_. Stiles, can you hear me?"  Stiles' eyes seemed to flutter at the touch.  "Okay, I'm getting you out of here.  Hang on."  Derek tried to gently get his arms under Stiles' body, but the boy suddenly stiffened and let out a sharp cry of pain.  "Fuck. Fuck _fuck_.  Stiles, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry, but I have to, okay?  You'll be okay I promise, but I _have_ to get you to the hospital." Derek tried his best to ignore the painful noises that escaped Stiles mouth as he hauled the boy up.  Carrying him as gingerly as he could, Derek pulled the boy into his arms and walked as carefully and quickly as he could to his car.  He had enough of a mind to open the back car door before he had gotten to the house, and Derek thanked the world that he had.  

     Placing Stiles as best as he could into the car, Derek shut the door and got into the driver's seat.  The boy was laying in the back and Derek took a quick glance at him before pulling out of the driveway.  Blood was still flowing somewhat from his nose, and he could see Stiles struggling to breath properly.  Fuck.  Reaching back with his hand. Derek placed it onto Stiles body.  Quickly, Derek felt the pain being pulled from the boy and pulse up his hand into his arm then his chest.   Derek couldn't help it when he outwardly groaned at the sensation.  That amount of pain Derek was feeling made the wolf start to panic even more. How Stiles was still alive was a miracle.  It felt like Derek had been hit by a car. 

     Speeding down the street, Derek would reach back every few seconds to pull more pain.  After a fourth pull, Stiles seemed to stir.  Letting out a soft whimper, he shifted in the backseat.

     "Derek?"  His voice was ragged and soft.  It tore at Derek's insides to hear it. 

     "Hey, hey, it's okay.  I'm here, Stiles."  Derek tried his best to comfort the boy even if he was feeling pretty scared right now. Stiles let out another groan. 

     "It hurts." He whimpered. Derek let out another whine from the back of his throat. 

     "I know. I know it does, Stiles. Only a little longer.  We're almost there."  Derek reached back and placed his hand back onto Stiles.  His head was starting to really hurt from all the constant pulling he was doing, but it was worth it.  He took another portion of pain that had flared up in Stiles, and Derek couldn't help that his eyes filled with liquid and spilled over. The combination of pain he was getting from Stiles, panic, stress, anger, and knowledge that the boy he loved was so deeply injured, was all too much for Derek in the moment.  He let a few tears fall, but his resolve to save Stiles grew exponentially.  He pressed his foot down further on the pedal and sped towards the hospital even faster.  Clenching his jaw and feeling his eyes flash a brilliant red, Derek knew he would be _damned_ if the person he loved most was going to die. 

***

     Stiles was pulled back out of the dark by a warm feeling on his arm.  Feeling the pain start to ebb slightly, he shifted and whimpered when his body quickly reminded him how badly it was injured.  He opened his eyes and saw -with fuzzy vision- that he was in the back of a car.  He could just make out the form of the driver, and Stiles immediately knew who it was. 

     "Derek?" He rasped.  His head was throbbing horribly and his stomach was turning so badly that he was certain he was going to throw up.  Every single part of his body was screaming in pain and he was threatening to pass out again. 

     "Hey, hey, it's okay.  I'm here, Stiles." Derek responded urgently.  Though the man's words and presence made Stiles feel much less panic, the boy was completely consumed with his pain.  Derek must have been pulling it out of him a lot since he arrived, and now enough was gone that he was pulled out of unconsciousness.  Stiles wasn't sure when the man had gotten to Tom's. Everything was moving too fast and another wave of pain washed over him.

     "It hurts." Stiles whimpered.  He was laying on his back, which meant he was directly irritating all the welts his uncle had whipped onto him.  It was horribly painful, but Stiles couldn't seem to form the words to tell Derek what was happening.  

     "I know.  I know it does, Stiles.  Only a little longer.  We're almost there."  Stiles could barely make out Derek's voice over the roaring in his ears.  He was quickly starting to feel too hot, and his chest was getting harder and harder to get to work.  

     "Hard-to-to breathe. Derek."  Stiles tried his best to make sense, but his sight was starting to go dark again.  He could see Derek turn back to look at him again, and felt the car speed up.  Resting his head back against the seat, Stiles looked up at the ceiling.  He could see the window of the car from where he was laying, and the glass moved downward as the wind started to billow into the car. Derek must have been trying to get more air to Stiles.  Trying his best to breathe in, Stiles focused on the scenery he could make out in his position.  It was slanted and mostly sky, but he could see the tips of trees zoom by.  

     Funny, Stiles thought.  

     He had always wanted to take a drive with Derek.  To feel the wind over his body and watch the trees and land pass by as they drove with no destination in mind. Looks like he was finally getting that wish.  Turning his eyes back to Derek, he could see the wind blow through Derek's hair; tousling it in the harsh breeze. Stiles was right when he thought Derek would look beautiful if they ever drove like Stiles liked to do.  Strange that he was finally getting what he wanted.

     "You're beautiful, Derek." Stiles murmured.  He couldn't help it when his eyes were closing; darkness taking over like before.  He could make out Derek trying to get his attention as he was slipping under.

     "Come on, Stiles!  Stay with me, here!" Derek pleaded.  Stiles wanted to answer him, but the darkness was consuming.

     It happened so quickly that Stiles didn't even know when he finally lost consciousness again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I just don't want this fic to end! I am having so much fun writing this and I don't want to stop yet. :[ 
> 
> Soooooo, my announcemtn is that there will be a few more chapters than I expected! I had only planned to write four more, including this one, but I just can't let this thing go. I want to make sure the story is finished in a way I like, and a way that is realistic enough. If I end it where I originally planned, the story would stop without enough closure I think. So that being said, I have no clue how MUCH more I will have, but yay for extended stories! I hope you guys are happy about that! (Lemme know your thoughts!)
> 
> The comments you all have left are my favorite part and make me want to keep writing, so THANK YOU SO SO MUCH! I am trying to respond to every comment, but even if I don't, I DEFINITELY read it. So thank you so much for the kind words and interesting ideas you guys come up with. A few have even given me some ideas for more stories I will write later!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!

     Derek forced the car to a loud stop in front of the hospital entrance.  He flung himself out of the driver's seat and quickly opened the back door.  Stiles was unconscious again, and Derek didn't know whether to be grateful for the boy not being aware of his pain or scared because of how serious his state must be for him to actually pass out. Not stopping saying words of encouragement, Derek pulled Stiles out from the car.  The boy whimpered but remained out cold.  Derek's wolf was clawing at the inside of his chest because he didn't know _where_ Stiles was hurt.  From the looks of hit, Derek knew his hand was hurt and obviously his nose, but everything else just seemed like a giant injury.  

     Cradling the boy as close and as gently as Derek could manage, the alpha burst through the doors and was met immediately with a frantic Isaac and Melissa.  The Beta's eyes were swimming with fear and anxiety and Derek didn't need the wolf bond to know how scared the boy was.  

     "What the hell happened?" Melissa asked firmly but professionally.  Derek could feel the urgency in her voice and understood the woman had a very close bond with Stiles, but her ability to help the boy was overshadowing any emotional issues she was having.  She knew it wasn't time for her to worry; it was time for her to act.  Derek followed a few steps behind Melissa as she found the nearest gurney. She must have made a call because there were plenty of other nurses and doctors running their way. 

     "Just help him. Please." Derek begged.  If he mentioned Tom, there would be too many questions and everybody needed to be focused on the unconscious boy in his arms. Melissa gave Derek a short look, but nodded.  Her kind face was pinched in concentration as she and her co-workers began taking vital signs and wheeling Stiles down the hallway.  They were all talking at once; noting pulse rate, age, things needed.  Derek couldn't find the order in the situation, but as he jogged to keep up with the traveling group, he noticed the efficiency.  He was stopped at the set of swinging doors that led into another portion of the hospital.  He wanted to go with Stiles but the workers there were adamant about him staying behind the doors.  With each hospital worker telling him to stop trying to get past them, the alpha felt himself become more and more furious.  Stiles was in pain and hurt and Derek couldn't just _stand_ there.

     He felt an arm on his shoulder and turning his head, Isaac was shaking his head slowly with sadness in his eyes.  Derek relaxed to the pack member's touch and let himself be pulled away even if most of him was dying to get back with Stiles. 

     "Derek, the pack is going to be here soon." Isaac told him as they made their way to the nearest waiting room.  Lucky for Derek, it was only a few dozen feet from the doors he had been trying to get past.  At least when the doctors came back out, he would be close.  Sitting in a chair that faced the way Stiles went, Derek waited for the others to arrive. He knew he had to pay attention to his pack now.  They were going to be confused and afraid like Derek was, but it was his responsibility to keep the calm.  Before anyone else showed up, Derek focused his hearing enough to find what he wanted most.  It took a minute to or two in order to sift through the many sounds in the hospital, but eventually Derek heard it. 

      _Thump. Thump. Thump._

     The beats of Stiles' heart were slow and soft, but they were enough to keep Derek from going mad. As long as they pulsed in the background, Derek would be alright. Holding onto that anchor, Derek watched as the pack arrived. 

The entire group seemed to have entered at the exact same time, and Derek didn't know if that was a good thing or bad.  On the plus side, he was able to address everyone at once.  But that also meant he would be faced with an entire pack of worried, scared, protective members.  Scott was the first one Derek had laid his eyes on, and the beta all but sprinted up to where he and Isaac were waiting.  The other beta had been sitting next to Derek, who had chosen to stand facing the doors Stiles had gone through only minutes before. 

     "What the hell happened?!" Scott shouted as he ran closer.  He stopped a mere two feet from Derek and his eyes were swimming with a multitude of emotions; anger, confusion, fear, regret.  Derek didn't even have the chance to respond before the others ran in behind Scott.  Allison was quickly stood beside her boyfriend and placed a hand on his shoulder.  Thankfully, Scott seemed to relax minutely at the touch, and Derek watched as Lydia and Jackson stood across from them.  Erica, Boyd, and Peter arrived and stood near the previous two as well.  Everyone looked ready to burst at the sudden summoning to the hospital so soon after finding out about Stiles' situation.  Isaac stood next to Derek and the group had unintentionally formed a circle.  

     "You need to start talking, Derek." Lydia quipped.  Her usually perfect hair seemed almost in a disarray. She clamped onto Jackson's hand, though the boy didn't look like he was complaining.  If anything, he was thankful looking. 

     "I think Mr.McCall was a little blunt with his question, but I would to know what happened, as well." Peter spoke.  Derek had noticed that Peter -though he did not run- did seem to walk with much more of a quick pace as he entered the area.  And that showed a lot of urgency for the man. Before things got too intense, Derek started to explain. 

     "Quiet." The group seemed to stop talking at once, which was a welcome occurrence.  "I was tired of waiting around to get Stiles, so I was leaving to get him."  Derek took time to look at each pack member as he spoke.  "Just as I was leaving, he called me.  He was...hurt.  He asked for help."  Now that he was trying to explain everything, words seemed difficult to find.  Sure, it wasn't a new concept for the alpha, but it was hard for him to admit what had happened to Stiles. "I didn't know what the hell happened to him, but I think we can all assume who did it."  Everyone seemed to finally soak in what had happened.  More than that, the pack seemed to finally get that Stiles really  _was_  being abused.  Until that point, they had just barely begun to think about the possibility.  Now there was no denying it.  "I got there and found him laying on the stairs completely...I found him." Derek didn't think there was a good enough reason to tell everyone what he had found.  It was something that would haunt Derek forever and they didn't need to deal with it as well. "I drove him here and he was taken through those doors by Ms. McCall and other doctors." Derek  looked at Scott. "You all know what know, now."  He had hoped this would at least calm Scott down some, but he was wrong.

     "This is your fault."  The beta spat.  "You wanted to leave him in that that house after you found out he was being beaten." 

     "Scott, don't." Allison tried to pacify the boy. 

     "No." Scott shook his head at the huntress. "I don't see how this isn't his fault.  He just  _left_  him there." 

     "I was getting  _help_." Derek snapped. 

     "You left him to the wolves!" Scott yelled.  Allison now had a firm grip on Scott's shoulder, though Derek wasn't sure how much it was helping. 

     "My nephew was doing what he had learned." Peter interjected.  It was rare for his uncle to speak up during any pack meeting, so it shocked Scott enough into a small silence. "He has grown up with a pack.  A very different, very  _traditional_  pack." Peter stared hard at Scott now. "He grew up seeing how an alpha treated tense situations.  My late sister was always highly organized and made sure she delegated specific jobs for each and every pack member before  _anything_  was done.  Wolves are not brash, Mr. McCall.  We are  _pack_  oriented. If my nephew had torn Mr. Stilinski out of that house without a second thought, the boy would have had severe distress leading to emotional and possible psychological problems.  The rest of the pack would have been thrown into a state of chaos because of the lack of communication.  I doubt you would want that for any of us standing here, and more importantly, your best friend.  Or am I wrong, Mr. McCall?"  Scott opened his mouth, eyes angry. "I advise you to think before you speak, boy." Peter interrupted the chance for Scott to respond. "The man is still your alpha and deserves your respect even if you do not agree with his decisions. Though I do urge you to note how he reacted with actions any other alpha would have done.  Going against him right now would be going against your own  _species_." 

      Derek was surprised at Peter's words.  He knew his uncle to be very subdued in his emotional outbursts, so Peter coming to his defense was not expected.  Appreciated? Yes.   _Expected_? No. Thankfully, the older wolf was much more poise in the art of words than Derek was.  Hearing all he had to say, Scott seemed to judge the options in his mind.  Glancing back between members of the pack and ultimately focusing on Derek, Scott clicked his mouth shut.  It seemed the conversation was over for now. 

     I am positive Ms. McCall will come out and tell us everything she can as soon as possible." Derek began, trying to regain some order in the pack.  "But until then, someone tell me what time it is."  Derek didn't have to wait long before Erica told him that it was almost 7:30.  Jesus, more time had gone by than he had thought. "The sheriff said he would be here around 10:00." Everyone seemed to stiffen at the mention of Mr. Stilinski. He was about to worried out of his mind about his son.  No one wanted to hurt the man, and _no one_ certainly wanted to be at the receiving end of his wrath.  But Stiles needed his father here.  "I'm going to make sure he gets here sooner."  With that, Derek turned away and walked towards the doors where Stiles had gone through and pulled out his phone.  He had given everyone a significant look to say 'give me some privacy'  and they all had slumped down into chairs.  Derek was sure some would listen in, but that was to be expected.  Moreover, however, most seemed to upset to really do anything besides worry.  Scott had to be led by Allison to the nearest chair and forcibly sat down.  Isaac moved to the other side of the beta and placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.  Allison left to get everyone coffee (since they all were probably going to be there for a while), Boyd and Erica chose to sit on the floor in front of Scott and Isaac.  Derek still didn't understand why they would always do that, but now wasn't the time to ask.  Peter had chosen to pace back and forth behind the row of chairs.  Reaching as far away from his pack as he was willing, Derek called the sheriff.   It barely rung once before the other line picked up.

     "Don't" Was all Mr. Stilinski said. 

     "Sheriff-" Derek began, but was cut off.

     "Don't you _dare_." Derek could hear the sound of the car speeding up on the other end of the conversation. There was so much anger and sadness and fear in the voice he had heard. 

     "Stiles is alive." Derek burst out.  He knew the man was thinking Derek was calling for the worst reason, and the father needed to be reassured of his son's health...no matter how poor it may be. 

     " _What the hell is going on?_ " Derek could hear some of the panic leave the man's voice, but it was still riddled with worry.  

     "He is in the hospital."  Ripping it off like a bandaid, right?  Not that Derek ever needed one.  

      _"What?!"_ Mr. Stilinksi roared. 

     "Sheriff, _please_.  I'm going to be completely honest with you right now.  I am barely holding it together."  Derek knew this was completely out of character for him, but this was the father of the boy he loved.  He deserved to hear this.  "I am in charge of a very confused and scared pack while I myself am utterly terrified.  Stiles was taken back my Melissa and her colleagues.  I have no clue what state he is in and I am so sorry I can't tell you more I am so _so sorry,_ but I suggest you get here.  Soon.  I know that when he can have visitors, you will be the first person he will want to see."  Derek was furious that he couldn't tell the man more, but it was all he could offer.  Normally, he would say he would keep Stiles safe until he got there, but it looked like he had failed at that already.  

     Derek heard the sound of police sirens start and the car speed up even further.  

     "I will be there in half an hour."  The voice Derek heard was resolute. Final.  The voice of a father with a mission to get to his son.  God help anyone who stood in the man's way.  

     "Drive safe, Sir.  I know Stiles will skin you alive if you get in an accident."  Derek tried his best to bring light to the situation.  Fuck, Stiles was really getting to him.  God, he had woven himself around Derek and now the man didn't even know when he had changed so much.  All he did know, is that he didn't want Stiles to let go.  

     "If it means he will be alright, then so be it." The man seemed to understand what Derek had been trying to do, but ultimately it didn't work.  And with that, the two hung up. Derek's heart clenched for the man.  He had already lost his wife; he didn't need to be worrying about losing his only son as well.  Derek knew it was similar to his own situation.  He had lost almost his entire family.  Now that it was only himself and Peter, Derek would do almost anything to keep the older man alive.  He was creepy and rude and cryptic, yes.  But the man was loyal and protective and good natured.  And in some ways, Peter was his only connection to his previous life.  A life with his entire family still alive.  For Mr. Stilinski, Stiles may be his own connection to Claudia.  Derek would be completely wrecked if the sheriff were to lose his son.  Even now, the thought made Derek's stomach twist in an uncomfortable knot. 

     The thought of losing Stiles in general, was enough to make Derek weak in the knees.  It burned in his chest to imagine not having Stiles' constant rambling in the background.  Derek didn't know what happened to make him crave the boy's nonstop talking, but now it hurt his ears not to listen to it.  He never wanted to see a world that didn't have Stiles in it.  He never wanted to see a world that wasn't filled with sarcastic remarks, movie nights, naps on the couch, and intimate dinners.  It was tearing at his heart not knowing how badly injured Stiles was and it was killing the werewolf to think that Stiles might not be coming out of the hospital. 

     But Stiles would fight.  He had fought this entire time, and Derek had always seen him as one of the strongest people he had ever met.  Now would be no exception.  Stiles Stilinski would be too damn stubborn to die, Derek was sure.  The boy would probably smack him upside the head for not worrying about the pack instead of him.  So with that in mind, Derek took a few calming breaths before heading back to the group only a short distance from him.  He sat down next to Isaac and placed his head in his hands.  His wolf was whining harshly and Derek wasn't so sure he kept all the noises inside his mind.  If he whined, the other's didn't mention it.  Then again, maybe they had joined in as well.  It didn't matter because all the alpha could focus on was the boy he loved and the only sound keeping himself somewhat sane.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_***_

     Everything hurt.  Stiles didn't know where he was or what was happening, but things were going on around him.  Hands prodded his body and voices shouted orders around his form.  Fighting a roll of nausea, Stiles risked his eyes open. 

     "Derek?" Stiles rasped out.  His voice was practically gone but he hoped the werewolf could hear it anyway.  A shadow eclipsed the passing lights above his face.

     "Stiles?  Can you hear me?"  Was that Ms. McCall?  What the hell was going on?  Stiles opened his mouth to say something but his body was hit with a horrifying wave of pain that flared in his back. Instead of responding to her voice, Stiles felt his eyes flutter close as he gave another whimper of pain.  "Stiles can you tell me what hurts?"  Whatever was carrying him jostled as it turned directions and Stiles' form bumped against the sides.  Wincing forcefully, Stiles tried sputtering out his response.  The his entire back was on fire and pulsing with pain.  A sharp, precise hurt that radiated throughout the entire area, and even though Stiles was attempting to tell Melissa what was hurting him so intensely, all that came out was a voiceless gasp. He kept repeating the words but nothing came out.  "Stiles?  I'm sorry, honey, I can't hear you.  Can you try again? What hurts?"  Stiles's eyes were still shut, now firmly so, and he couldn't see where he was.  That being said, he noticed he had stopped traveling.  People were still shouting around him and the hands had begun to pull at his clothes; his shoes were pulled off and his pants unbuttoned.  Someone tried pulling at his shirt but Stiles yelled in pain from the fabric tugging against his back. The hands stopped moving when he had shrieked and Stiles started to sob against the pain.  The scream he let out brought his voice back enough that he could finally tell Melissa what was torturing him so badly.

     "Back! Melissa, my back!" He sobbed openly.  Stiles heard the immediate conversations start after his admission and a hand placed against his cheek. 

     "Stiles, it's okay. Stiles you're you're going to be _fine._  We are going to get you off your back now, alright?" He tried his best to focus in on the kind voice of his best friend's mother but even her words weren't enough to keep Stiles from crying so harshly.  Maybe it was the pain, or the situation, or a combination of everything but he was overwhelmed and couldn't help but cry out.  

      The next thing he knew, Stiles was being turned over by a lot of hands and placed on his stomach.  It hurt his chest and stomach to be pressed so heavily, but his back was substantially better than before now that he wasn't laying on it.  Of course, the pain was still making his head spin (even more now that he had shifted his body).  He could hear the sound of fabric tearing now that he had bitten back a the majority of his his sobs, and then he felt the uncomfortable sensation of his shirt being peeled from his back.  The clothing pulled at the skin it had been stuck to and Stiles squirmed under the feeling, groaning. 

     "Stiles, you have to stay still, alright?  I know it hurts." Melissa was back in front of him again, and Stiles focused on her face kneeling next to him. He just didn't understand what the hell was happening.  It was all too much, and as he felt his shirt being lifted away from his back, Stiles' stomach started to twist in the worst way. 

     "I'm gunna-Melissa-I'm-I'm gunna." Stiles tried warning the woman next to him through his sobs and luckily the nurse seemed to understand because she gently but quickly pulled Stiles back onto his side enough to put a bedpan near his face just before he vomited.  He landed most of his contents in the bowl but he wasn't sure he managed to get it all within the container. "Oh God, it hurts."  Stiles cried. "Melissa, it hurts so much."  He squeezed his eyes shut and tried his best not to throw up again.  Again, he felt a hand being placed on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently. 

     "We're going to give you something, Stiles.  It'll help with the pain, alright?"  Stiles couldn't find his voice again, so he just nodded frantically. Anything would be better than this.  God, he just wanted Derek to be there.  He wanted to curl up next to him and feel safe again.  

     More tears slipped out even after he felt a prick against his arm and the shadows crept up to take him back to unconsciousness. 

***

     The darkness wasn't so much darkness as it was lack of comprehension.  It was one of those things that you didn't notice until it was gone.  Stiles didn't even understand he wasn't feeling any pain until he started to come out of his stupor.  Like so many other parts of his life, it was confusing.  It was like the concept that you don't feel your shirt on your back until you think about it.  Until that point, you don't even notice the fabric.  But now you're thinking about it and it is all you can focus on.  For Stiles, he didn't even know he was out of it until his lucidity came crawling back. He could feel a tugging at his back: not painful, but not comfortable.  His mind was just starting to crest over the state of understanding, when he heard a murmuring of voices. With the voices, came the discomfort.  Stiles could sense that in moments, the feelings centered around his back would soon turn painful, but before that could even happen, Stiles felt another prick in his shoulder this time.  Without noticing when it happened, Stiles was gone again. 

***

_You never fucking learn, do you?_

_You're more stupid than I thought._

***

     Stiles came back to reality in a complete floating fog the next time. His body felt like it was covered in tiny pin cushions: that somehow his entire being had fallen asleep like when you sit on your leg too long.  Fluttering his eyes open, he sees why he got the floating feeling.  His body is quite literally in the air and it kind of scares the boy.  He could see a white bed beneath him, and here he was, floating above the sheets.  His sight was still fuzzy but he could hear a beeping pick up in the background as he started to panic.  Feeling a familiar hand touch his cheek again, Stiles tried to relax. He knew that touch was associated with Melissa.  Melissa was good.  Thankfully, he was aware enough to trust her judgement.  If she was trying to calm him down, then he was probably safe.  Probably.  However, just because his mind was trusting the situation (or rather Melissa), didn't mean his body did.  He could feel a twist in his abdomen.  It wasn't the normal nausea he felt, but it was nausea just the same.  Stiles managed to rasp some kind of warning noise because Melissa was once again ready with a bedpan.  Trying not to see what he had thrown up, Stiles avoided looking.  Unfortunately, Stiles hadn't closed his eyes in time because he had caught the sight of some bright red in his vomit.  Blood.

***

_Ungrateful shit._

_You should have never been born_

  _You're a disgrace_    

***

     Stiles doesn't understand anything the next time he comes to.  He is still floating and still doesn't understand why, but everything else is a blur.  He can make out voices, but they sound jumbled and too distant to really understand.  Every time he opens his eyes, he just feels too dizzy to keep them open.  He opens his mouth to ask for Derek, but he isn't sure any sound comes out.  If it does, he isn't sure it's Derek's name or just nonsense. How much time has passed?  

***

_If only your mother was here to see what a fucking mistake she brought into this world._

_You never shut up!_

***

     Stiles didn't know if he was delusional or hallucinating or something, but at some point the words he had been hearing in his head had melted away to something stronger.  They were still there, loud and angry, but the other words were completely obliterating them with their own strength.  They were a powerful hum that filled his brain with a warmth and comfort he was very familiar with.  It was then that he had began to dream (or do something close to dreaming). His dreams began and they quickly He dreamt of warm, woodsy smells, Chinese food, watching movies, getting coffee, late night texts, and sweet kisses. He dreamt of his wolf.  And for a while, the pain was gone and all he could think about was Derek.  

***

**_And you're you._ **

**_I want this too, Stiles.  I want us._ **

**_You are not a fuck up.  You are a gift, Stiles. A gift._ **

_**Goodnight, Stiles.** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this isn't too much of a cliffhanger! I know I have plagued you guys with them the past couple of chapters, so I wanted to give you a little break, haha. 
> 
> I really wanted to give the chapter a kind of "scattered" or "splintered" feel to it. A situation like this would be very confusing and sudden and jarring and kind of all over the place. So that is why I had a lot of POV changes and short little blips from Stiles. I hope this helped give some of the feel I was going for! :]


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. 
> 
> I know this is a short update and it isn't nearly up to snuff with the chapters I have been posting before. But I have been dealing with some personal stuff as of late, so that is why it has been so long since I posted a chapter. I feel bad for making you guys wait so long, but I just haven't felt very...motivated. :/ So I'm really sorry for the hiatus, but I assure you that I WILL finish this. Even though I am still dealing with some...things, I am thankful for all of your positive words and thoughts and I really didn't want to make you guys wait any longer, and I wanted to give you SOMETHING to hold onto. So I hope this makes up for some of the lack of activity on my part. I still feel really connected with the story and love love love LOVE writing it, so there is no danger of me leaving it before it has run it's course. :] I hope the next updates from here on out are much less spaced out, but please bear with me if they take a little while. 
> 
> Whew. Talk about being a Debbie Downer! ONTO THE STORY!!! :]

     Derek paced by his pack for the next twenty minutes.  He resisted the urge to bite his nails merely out of the hopes to maintain some sort of appearance in front of his betas.  Even still, his hands twitched enough at his sides to make him cross them in front of his chest.  The irritating sensation was only going to make things worse.  The alpha casted his eyes over his pack members every few feet, routinely checking up on them.  There were no immediate threats to anyone in the area but it was mostly his wolf that was wanting to keep them in his sights.  His instincts were yelling at him to _pace_ and _protect_ and _provide_ for his betas and pack.  It was all he could manage not to wrap them all into a secluded corner of the hospital and physically guard the rest of them while their member was currently being attended to behind those damn doors. An injured pack mate always put the rest of the pack on edge, and every time Derek looked at one of the people around him, it was only proven further.  

     Scott wasn't pacing like Derek was, but the young man was standing rather than sitting.  While one of his hands was cross against his chest, the other was brought up in a fist against his mouth like he was stopping the very possibility of talking.  Surely Scott must be having some sort of crisis at the moment; his best friend was being beaten by his uncle while Scott had began to exclude the boy from his life.  Scott had allowed his infatuation for Allison overlook his love for Stiles.  And yes, Derek was well aware of the fact that Scott  _did_ love Stiles.  The werewolf never doubted that his beta cared for the boy with all his heart but _fuck_ , Scott was so damn oblivious sometimes that the man wanted to ring his neck.  The only reason Derek wasn't tearing Scott a new one for his part in this was because of two things.  The first being that Scott was clearly beating himself up enough for the both of him.  He had lashed out at Derek before, but it was most likely out of his own self anger and frustration for not being there for Stiles.  The second reason Derek wasn't yelling at the boy was because he _himself_ was feeling guilty. 

     Stiles was under his protection.  Stiles was in his pack, he was his friend, and recently, he was his boyfriend.  It was Derek's job to watch out for the boy and protect him.  But more than that, Derek had _wanted_ to do that. The want to keep Stiles save and loved was a primal need.  It was in his bloodstream to be there for him, and he had failed (and miserably at that). Did he regret his choice to alert the others instead of going after Tom right then and there when he found out? No.  Stiles was too strung out, that much was clear.  The boy was barely holding it together when he thought Derek was going to confront Tom or even get outside help.  Derek was certain that Stiles would have had an actual mental breakdown if Derek hadn't given him at least _some_ control in his life.  Tom had taken so much of that away from the kid and Derek knew that the boy wouldn't be able to handle it if he had taken any more away.  And Peter was right; Derek had done what he was raised on.  His mother was always telling him and his siblings the importance of order and planning.  An uninformed and unorganized pack was an unsafe pack.  So Derek would do the same in a heartbeat if the situation were to happen again.  But the thing that was killing him, was that he was just as guilty as Scott for not paying attention.  And for the exact same reason, no less.  

     Stiles had gotten under his skin in the past few months and when they had started to be around each other more in the past couple of weeks, Derek's feelings for the boy only increased exponentially.  He had fallen for the bourbon eyes that seemed to pierce into his heart with a lazy gaze.  The power the boy had over Derek was immense and it was almost astounding.  Those nimble fingers were enough to draw Derek into a stupor and when the boy had brought a cup of coffee up to his mouth during one of their first times they hung out, Derek had to physically bite in the inside of his cheek not to groan at the attractiveness.  That damn cupid's bow of his upper lip was so supple and inviting that Derek had _actually_ spent the one night tossing in his bed thinking about it.  He had dreamt of mapping out the constellations of moles that decorated Stiles' body.  And somehow, the Stilinski boy had caught Derek's heart when the alpha was sure that it would never be held again.  He was so damn positive that he would never find himself wanting to be with anyone again, and yet the boy had defied that idea.  He had completely taken Derek as he was (broken and angry and not at all good for him) and welcomed him into his life.  Stiles had loved him for his faults and his downsides all the while dealing with his own personal hell.  And while Derek wanted to blame everything on falling in love with the boy, the rational part of him reminded him that Stiles had been abused since before he had even met the boy.  So what was his excuse for not noticing from the very start?  What was his excuse for getting Isaac help but not Stiles?  

     He wasn't sure he had one.

     The rest of the pack were clearly at the end of their ropes as well.  Stiles had only been gone for about an hour and they all seemed to agree that it felt much longer than that.  Allison sat next to where Scott stood, reaching her hand up and rubbing his lower back in a comforting touch every few minutes. Jackson and Lydia sat across the row of chairs being occupied by Alison and Scott, Lydia on top of Jackson's lap.  At a glance, with Lydia's arms around her boyfriend's neck, it appeared that she was being comforted by his presence.  But a closer examination would make it clear that Jackson was getting just as much comfort as she was.  His arm was placed around her waist and Derek could see the stiff set in his jaw; a tell tale sign of Jackson's uneasiness.  Boyd and Erica sat on either side of Isaac in the same row of chairs as Allison and Scott .  Boyd had draped his arm around the boy's shoulders and Erica had taken to holding one of Isaac's hands in both of hers.  Clearly this was bringing up bad memories for the young man and Derek felt his heart pull for the boy.  Peter had remained perfectly still as he stood behind Jackson and Lydia.  Derek knew he chose his place out of instinct; there was an unbalance of members on one side of the area so he placed his body on the side with less members.  Even out the sides, even out the safety.  He was just looking away from the pack before him and back towards the doors he had watched the boy he loved go through, when the sheriff arrived.  

     With the precursor of angry shouts and a few clattering noises that Derek wasn't sure the origin of, the sheriff turned the corner and locked eyes on the group.  

     "What the _holy hell is going on?!"_ He roared.  The pack members around him all tensed up and simultaneously looked downwards: out of shame, guilt, fear, sadness, or a mixture. Mr. Stilinski stormed up to Derek and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards him. "What the hell did you do to my son?!" He shouted in Derek's face. Derek, aware of how deserving he was of the treatment, remained calm.  His wolf wanted to show his dominance but Derek recognized the man in front of him as someone to be respected.  He was the father of Stiles, and in all other senses but the formal one, was an alpha.  Derek allowed the man to all but attack him in his fear and confusion, but Derek knew he had to try and clear things up fast.

     "Sheriff I can explain-" Derek began, arms up in show of no threat. 

     "Explain?! Explain _what_?! I leave for _two weeks_ and you somehow put my son in the hospital?!  Tell me, _Hale_ , how in the world can you _explain_ this?" The sheriff was red in the face and Derek knew they all were moments before seeing someone throw a punch.  Gently as he could. Derek wrapped his own hands around the Sheriff's and removed the hold on his shirt.  Keeping as much intimidation out of his posture and expression, Derek spoke. 

     "I did not _put_ him here. I _took_ him here." The sheriff didn't seem to expect that, as he had visibly stopped shaking in anger and the confusion took over now (though the anger was clearly still there). 

     "Then what the hell happened to him?" Sheriff asked.  Now that the man didn't know the reason behind his son being in the hospital (Derek tried his best to ingore that he had originally suspected it to be Derek's doing), it was clear that the father in front of him was trying his best not to succumb to fear and sadness.  His only child was in the hospital for an unknown reason and he was terrified as to what the status of Stiles was.  Of course he would be close to breaking.  They all were.

     "Not what, Mr. Stilinski. _Who_."  Peter spoke.  He had somehow moved from where he had been standing and was now on the other side of him, putting the sheriff in a werewolf sandwich of sorts.  The human in front of Derek turned his entire body towards Peter, expression warranting no need for his voice.  He wanted to know who had done it.  Derek sighed.  Peter seemed to prefer the quickest method of informing people, and he supposed that was as good of a choice as any.  Sighing and bracing himself for a shit storm that was about to happen, Derek sat down next to Jackson and Lydia.  

     "Sheriff."  Derek spoke softly.  Noticing the tone in the werewolf's voice, Mr. Stilinski turned towards the now sitting alpha, eyebrows drawing together.  "I think it would..be best if you sat down."  Derek gestured towards to the other row of chairs so that they could face each other.  At this, Scott seemed to understand and sat a chair away from Allison.  He moved his hands in a way to suggest that the sheriff sit in between himself and his girlfriend, and the man reluctantly abided. Stiles' father seemed to calm down enough at the sight of his son's best friend.  Sitting next to the beta, Mr. Stilinski seemed to be eerily calm now that everyone else was clearly torn up.  

     "Please, just tell me what is going on."  The sheriff's voice was ragged and tired.  The man had most likely almost blacked out from the panic and fear he had been experiencing the past day.  His eyes were red (he must have been crying at some point recently) and his hair was disheveled (his hands clearly had been running through his hair in frustration). Derek nodded.  

     And the werewolf told the man everything.

     He told him about how it was Tom who had put his son there, how it had been happening for years, how Derek had found him, how he planned on getting him out, how he had called Sheriff when he had started to get help, he told him _everything_ but the relationship he had started with his son.  That seemed like it would be something Stiles would want to tell his father for himself.  Well, he would want to if he-no.  No.  There was no _if._  There was no chance of Stiles _not_ surviving what Tom had done.  Derek wouldn't allow it. He completely demolished any idea of Stiles not surviving.  Denial or otherwise, Derek refused to think there wouldn't be another time to hold Stiles in his arms. 

     When he finished explaining everything, the sheriff just looked at him.  His face was closed off, his eyes were unblinking. For a split second, Derek wasn't sure the man had heard anything or allowed his words to sink in because he was so unmoving.  But in an instant, the sheriff's face contorted and began to cry forcefully.  His once blank eyes quickly filled with tears and his quiet form was interrupted by harsh sobs.  His hands covered his face and he leaned forward, hunching over onto his knees.  Everything about his posture was screaming defeat.  A new part of Derek broke at the sight.  He was seeing a father be consumed with pain, guilt, frustration, confusion, sadness, and regret and Derek felt another pang of guilt over his part in this.  The scent of complete and utter agony was wafting off the sheriff and Derek was quickly overcome with it (as was everyone else in the pack: werewolf or otherwise).  Scott reached a hand out and placed it on the back of his best friend's father while a few tears began to fall from his own eyes.  Allison did this same act of comfort but on the sheriff's shoulder.  

     Around them, the rest of the pack seemed to finally let themselves feel the emotions they had been trying to keep in check.  Lydia's lip was trembling hard and her eyes were starting to gloss over, Jackson's eyes started to mist over as well even as he clenched his jaw tighter than ever before.  Erica was crying softly into Isaac's shoulder while the beta bit his bottom lip and silently let tears roll down his cheeks.  Boyd simply closed his eyes and trembled slightly. Somehow that was as heartbreaking as the other's sobs.  Even peter seemed to be struggling with keeping his emotions in check.  Clearing his throat, Peter stepped back behind Lydia and Jackson and turned away from the group.  Derek wasn't going to judge his uncle for the tears he was probably shedding, but the man obviously didn't want the other's seeing him like this.   The once quiet and tense room was now filled with the harsh and quick sounds of sobs and choked off cries.  Derek felt his stomach sink and his heart clench in pain at the torture his pack was going through.  His soul ached for Stiles and he didn't even blink away at the few stray drops of water falling from his eyes. Instead, he let them plummet towards the ground as he got up and walked towards the doors Stiles had gone through. Standing just outside the barriers, Derek stared down the hallway in hopes of somehow seeing a sign of the boy he loved.  When he saw nothing, he focused his hearing onto his only lifeline at this point.  

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in the beginning notes, I know this isn't probably as good as my normal stuff and it is pretty short. So I am sorry if it leaves you a little...disappointed. But I tried my best to give you guys something. :] That being said, There is a little thing I wanna talk about.
> 
> The reason I decided not to go into detail of Derek explaining everything to the sheriff is because of a couple things. First, I thought it would make the situation redundant. Derek has now explained this whole situation more than once and I felt that there would be no new emotions of his I would want to share that I hadn't already. Also, I thought it wouldn't really focus on what I want the story to focus on. The sheriff finding out is important, yes, but what happens after and the atmosphere after is MORE important I think. 
> 
> Okay, yay! Tom is going to get what is coming to him soon! VERY soon! Now I just gotta figure out what would be worthy punishment, haha! Any ideas on how the asshole should be handled? Killed? Put in jail? I am open to suggestions, but keep in mind we have to think about how Stiles would react and view the situation and not just focus on our hatred for Tom. :]


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a horrible person, I know. I know. I never ever thought I would be one of those authors that waits a month before posting again. I see all your comments since they go to my e-mail but I have been so swamped with things and this chapter was giving me a lot of trouble because it was so important and so much has lead up to this, and I ended up rewriting it like five times. Even now I am pretty nervous about it, but you guys have really been putting up with me not posting a lot, and I appreciate it and I know I just have to post it and hope for the best. I hope you guys like what happens. Thank you guys for sticking with it, I know how much it sucks to wait. And I am FINALLY on Thanksgiving break! A WHOLE WEEK OFF!!!!!! Let's see if I can make up for that long wait, shall we?

     To say Derek was at the end of his rope, was a slight exaggeration. Okay, it was a huge exaggeration. He was white knuckling it at the moment, and he wasn't sure he was going to last much longer. The pack had since calmed down from their much needed emotional outburst. They needed to feel everything and until that moment, they had been putting on a strong front. Derek was proud of his pack for being so brave and level headed (for the most part) during the past day.  He had effectively turned their lives upside down by telling them what had been going on.  They had obeyed his orders with little objection and they were all relatively focused, so Derek knew how much they all needed to express their pain.  He himself had let the pain take over for the smallest of moments; crying quietly for a minute before he was able to focus on Stiles' heartbeat.  Now the pack had calmed down enough to where the waiting room was silent again.  There were a few stray sniffles but for the most part, everyone had stopped crying.  The sheriff looked absolutely wrecked, and Derek didn't blame him in the slightest.  In all actuality, Derek didn't even want to begin to think about what the man must be feeling.  

     When the minutes ticked by and the flowing tears turned into red and slightly puffy eyes, Derek grew more and more antsy.  Every part of his being wanted to break down those doors and get to Stiles' side but the rational part of him told him the doctors were helping the boy.  Derek didn't even know how bad it was.  How many bones were broken? How many stitches would he need?  

     Just when the waiting was becoming too much, ultimately almost two hours, it looked like Derek was finally going to get some of those answers...even if he didn't want to hear them too much. The doors he had been eyeing opened and Mrs. McCall entered the area, grim look on her face and lips pulled into a tight line. She looked about as good as everyone else did, maybe worse since she knew what was going on with Stiles' state.  At her appearance, everyone either stood up or sat straight in their chairs.  

     "Melissa.  How–how is he?" The sheriff's voice quivered slightly.  Derek just waited, not trusting his own voice. The woman looked at the group of somber people gathered in the waiting room, her eyes pausing slightly on Derek before she looked back to the Sheriff.

     "He's alright."  With those first words, there was quite literally a breath of relief amongst everyone in the area.  The audible sigh was short lived though, because they were all about to find out the sate of their pack member. "Stiles' has a slight concussion from a blow to the back of his head.  A few fingers and carpals in his right hand are broken, as well as his nose." Melissa's tone was tense and the words seemed to pain her slightly as they came out of her mouth.  

     "Jesus–" The sheriff began, but Melissa cut him off.

     "John, I wish I was done. But I'm not. But before we talk about his current state, I need to know what happened."  At that sentence, the group shifted uncomfortably in their newly reopened wounds.  They still were reeling from the revelation they all had learned only hours earlier.

     "His–his uncle." The sheriff ground out through clenched teeth.  The amount of pain that admitting such was astronomical, Derek could tell.  His own chest hurt from the idea.  Looking just as shocked as the rest of us, Melissa put a hand to her mouth and took a few moments to gather herself before talking again. She didn't look completely stable, no one did, but she looked like she was trying to stay focused.

     "He–" Melissa took another breath. "He has two broken ribs, and his right arm has a hairline fracture."  The room had only just let out their sigh of relief about Stiles apparently being alright, when these words seemed to suck the air right back out of the room.  With each injury, the group seemed to sink further and further into their sadness.  "Those all have been treated.  His nose has been reset, his arm and hand have been placed in a cast.  His head wound and ribs have been treated as well.  But, those weren't the main causes for worry.  His stomach was extremely bruised both externally and internally.  The coloration in certain areas makes us think it was an older injury that might have taken place earlier this week, though we aren't exactly sure yet.  It is a complete miracle he didn't have any internal bleeding, but let me be the first to tell you that when I say 'miracle' I mean it.  The amount of bruising and discoloration would almost certainly mean severe bleeding of the stomach or diaphragm.  If I were to guess, the lining of his internal organs is vastly diminished at this point.  Any single more injury, whatsoever, to the area could have meant the worst. I cannot stress how imperative at this point it is that Stiles does not do anything which would threaten his abdomen at this point. I wish that was the area which had concerned us the most, but It seems, from what we can tell, that Stiles was whipped with something..repeatedly on his back."  If the gasps of shock were bad, the complete lack of sound in the room at that moment was absolutely terrifying.  "I would guess it was from a belt since the deepest cuts are at the end of the mark, most likely from the buckle.  But.." Again, Melissa had to pause and take a breath.  At first, her demeanor was strong and professional but her close relationship with the boy was clearly starting to affect her.  Her hands were shaking slightly and her eyes were constantly blinking away the water gathering in them.  Even her voice was starting to waver slightly, causing her to clear it a couple times before continuing. This time, her words flowed out quicker and sharper.  Like a bandaid, possibly. "But his back is severely mutilated.  We couldn't even count the amount of lashes he was given.  He lost a large amount of blood from the wounds."  Suddenly, it all made sense to Derek.  He had picked up Stiles and the boy had shifted away from the touch all because of the cuts on his back.  No wonder Derek's hands were covered in blood after he had picked Stiles up.  "We had to sedate him to treat the injuries on his back, and even then we couldn't just leave him on his stomach in a bed.  With his ribs, breathing could be too difficult and placing him on his back is completely out of the question.  We managed to get a bed meant for burn patients though.  He's being suspended slightly off the bed so his body isn't laying on any of his injuries.  He should wake up either late tonight or tomorrow morning.  Depending on his state, we might bring him out of it earlier than expected or even keep him under for a longer amount of time."  With that, Melissa let out a small breath and closed the distance between her and the sheriff.  Everyone else in the pack seemed to mirror the embrace.  People turned to whoever was next to them and either placed a comforting hand on a shoulder, squeezed a hand, or just hugged similar to the Sheriff and Mrs. McCall.  After the two broke the embrace, Scott had walked up to where they were standing.  The Sheriff turned towards the guilty looking teen and didn't have to wait before Scott was speaking. 

     "I'm so _sorry_ , Mr. Stilinski. I am so so sorry.  I didn't know.  I didn't know what was happening and it's my _fault_.  I left him alone all this time and I didn't _know_. I am so sorry." Tears had suddenly appeared again in Scott's eyes and he had quickly ducked his head down in sorrow at his words.  The guilt was permeating off the young wolf in substantial amounts and Derek couldn't help but think of all the times Stiles had referred to Scott as a puppy.  All that was missing was a tail curled between the boy's legs, and the image would practically be spot on.  Scott's mom put a hand on his shoulder in comfort and the Sheriff just looked at the contrite boy before him for a split instant before he had the kid in a bone crushing hug.  

     "Scott, no no.  Don't you dare.  This is not your fault.  This is no one's fault." The man rubbed a consoling hand on the boy's back while Scott's muffled voice sounded. 

     "But I'm his best friend, Sheriff.  I'm–I'm supposed to protect him from this stuff!" Scott's voice was hard enough to hear from where his face was pressed against the sheriff's shoulder, but it was almost impossible to understand at the end because the teen's words were pretty much lost in the sobbing.  Scott was no longer crying silently like he had been before.  His breath was coming in harsh gasps and grip had tightened on the man he was hugging.  Derek could see Scott's shoulders shaking from the sobs and the room could hear the agony in his cries.  For a moment, the sheriff just held him but he too started to cry at the contact. 

     "And I'm his father, son.  This was my brother who did this. I should have seen it.  It has been happening for years, Scott, and I didn't even blink an eye at sending him there while I was gone.  He had asked me not to make him and I didn't listen."  The admission from either of them was heart wrenching but together it was almost too much to bear.  

     Derek wasn't sure what it was.  It could have been the whole damn day that made it happen, but he thought it was the fact that he had just heard Scott bawl at what he had done to his friend, intentionally or not. It was then that Derek realized people needed to stop blaming themselves for what had happened to Stiles.  Was Scott guilty for not being there for Stiles? Yes.  Was the sheriff guilty of not noticing what his own brother was doing? Yes.  Was Derek guilty of not getting Stiles out immediately after he found out? Yes. Yes. Yes. _Yes_. The guilt was almost consuming him at that moment because right now, Stiles, the boy he just realized he loved, for fuck's sake, was literally unconscious because of his lack of immediacy. It was tearing Derek up inside to know this.  So yes, they all had reasonable guilt, but they needed to stop blaming themselves for how he ended up in the hospital. Because when all was said and done, _Tom_ had done this.   _Tom_ had almost beaten him to death.   They had all neglected Stiles in some way, but Tom had done the actual deed. 

     The two had separated from each other and Derek took his chance to walk towards them.  He looked at the sheriff in the eyes, something he had tried not to do in the time they had all been there.  "I can't...tell you how sorry I am for my part in this.  But I think we can all focus our anger and..sadness on getting the real culprit.  Tom needs to be taken care of, and we have the means to do so."  The sheriff looked a little taken back, but answered nonetheless.

     "I don't think we can just kill the man, Derek."  The wolf shook his head.

     "As much as I would love to do that, and trust me Sheriff, I want to do that. But Stiles...I know Stiles doesn't want that."  The anger and frustration was still very much a part of Derek's being at that time.  His wolf was positively dying to get to Tom and literally rip him apart.  To pull his arms until the muscle and veins were torn from each other, leaving the man bleeding out from the gaping wounds where his limbs used to be. But Stiles had managed to get Derek to know that he did not want his uncle dead.  The alpha wasn't very understanding of why that would be, but he knew he couldn't dare disobey Stiles' wants right now.  If he were to wake up and find out that Derek had killed Tom, he might not ever forgive him. Derek would just have to settle for getting Tom into custody.  "I can surely help you get him under arrest." And he could.  

     The sheriff looked at Derek for a moment before letting out a sigh.  "I am not..I cannot leave Stiles until I see him.  After I get can see my son, I will hand Tom."  Derek could understand that.  The man needed to make sure his son was in fact safe, and alive, before getting Tom.  Derek would have to guess that the man would leave in about twenty minutes. 

     "What about calling the other deputies to get him?" Derek asked.

     "I want to be the one who gets him. Not my deputies."  The sheriff responded quickly. Again, Derek could understand that.  However, Derek couldn't wait.  Stiles was safe, he knew he was.  Melissa wouldn't come out to talk to them all if that wasn't the case. And waiting that little while to get to leave again just wasn't going to work with him.  Tom was out there not paying for what he had done. And while Derek was going to let the man live, he wasn't going to let him walk free for another minute.  So he just nodded and watched as Melissa took him through those doors she had just come out of.  As soon as the sheriff was out of sight, he turned towards his pack who were all still very much in shock.

     "Everyone listen up.  I understand that this is a lot to take in.  It is. But we aren't done.  Tom is still out there and I am not going to rest until I have him with me or have him in jail.  You all are to stay here while Scott and I go get him." Derek could tell that they all could sense that he meant he would get him by any means necessary.  And he did.  "But before I go, I want you to know I am proud of you all. I am thankful for your obedience and your focus.  You are a pack I am honored to be alpha of. Scott?" At his name, Scott nodded and followed Derek as he walked towards the exit.  He didn't bother waiting for a response from his pack at the praise; he didn't want one.  He just wanted to tell his betas and other members that he appreciated them because he did.  As an alpha, it was important to give praise after a job well done.  They might have not succeeded in getting Stiles out before something else happened, but they did their jobs perfectly.  If anything, it was Derek's fault that Stiles had been beaten again.

     The two werewolves walked out of the hospital and towards the camaro that Peter had parked away from the entrance earlier.  It had been parked hazardously when Derek arrived with Stiles, and someone had to get it out of the way for any other patients coming in. They walked towards the black car and Derek couldn't help but picture the last time he was in it.  But as he got closer and closer, he focused on the noise of Stiles' heartbeat in the distance.  It was diminishing, but only because Derek was getting farther away.  Scott and Derek got in the car and pulled quickly out of the lot and towards Tom's house.  Derek's wolf was howling at the fact that he was finally going to get Tom.  He may have promised Stiles, and now the sheriff, that he wouldn't kill him, but that didn't mean he couldn't _hurt_ him.  Besides, he did threaten him before that if he hurt Stiles again, there would be repercussions.  

     And there would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I am hoping to make up for my lack of activity, so expect another update within the next two days! I decided to split this chapter into two parts since the second part (when they finally deal with Tom) was giving me the most trouble. Hopefully I can fine tune what I have written for that part in these next two days so you guys will like it. AGAIN I AM SORRY FOR THE WAIT IT MAKES ME SO MAD THAT IT HAPPENED! So yes, I know this one is short but it's because I am still so dang nervous about this next chapter. You guys have always been so supportive and patient and I just really want it to be the best it can be.
> 
> Also, HOLY CRAP THIS IS OVER 100,000 WORDS! I remember thinking that it would only be 60,000 but that certainly didn't happen! I am so thankful that any of you have taken the time to read all of this (or even some of it) especially if you have dealt with my crazy posting lately. At this point, I might as well not even predict how long this will end up because I was so drastically wrong last time, haha!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update, as promised! :] I finally decided to just post it because there are only so many times I can rewrite this before I go insane. But I hope you guys like what I chose to do. :] I think it was a little poetic in a sense, but that kinda sounds pretentious, haha. Anyway, here you go! You finally get to see what Derek decides to do with Tom!

     There was something about driving that had always appealed to Derek.  Ever since his family had been murdered, he found it difficult to cope: nothing exactly unknown to the world.  But with the deaths, he felt suffocated so often in his life.  When he and Laura had moved to New York, they had chosen to drive instead of fly across the country.  Looking back on it, Derek is a little surprised he didn't dread the long drive, but he was probably just too numb from loss to really focus on anything at the time.  All he could honestly remember was feeling like he couldn't breathe in Beacon Hills.  His entire family had been diminished to four people, one of which he wasn't even aware was alive and another who had been so badly injured that he was comatose in a hospital.  His chest had done more than ached: it burned.  The flames in his body kissed the inside of his ribs, dancing along them like they were thriving on the beating of his heart while his family's all were no longer moving.  He was being charred alive by the pain and loss.  An ironic but fitting state to be in after the fire had claimed so many of those he loved.  All he could imagine was his body slowly draining of color and life, just withering to ash in the hopes and demands to become charred like the rest of his bloodline.  He wanted to curl up and stop being.  Not die.  Never die.  As small as his family had been reduced to, he never wanted to leave Laura and Peter alone in the world.  He would be damned if he ever let them lose another member of the Hale pack.  But that didn't mean he didn't want the world to stop.  For the mourning to stop.  For his soul to stop bleeding over his mother and father and sisters and brothers and cousins and aunts and uncles and everyone.  So when Laura had placed him in her camaro, the very same one he was driving now, he didn't even grumble a complaint.  He trusted her with his life and she had believed that driving was best.  He later learned from her that it was because the only way they would have been able to afford such short notice flight tickets across the country would have been if they tapped into the very new sum of money they inherited thanks to life insurance.  it was too difficult for her to even fathom doing yet, so she had been intent on driving. And Derek wasn't exactly sure when it happened.  Maybe it was two hours into the drive, maybe two days, but at some point, Derek looked out the window and saw the world moving outside him.  And it was such a funny thing: the world blurring past him as they drove through the land.  How the trees and landscapes all shifted into a fuzzy act of movement while he had been wanting so badly to stop vibrating in agony.  They were a opposing forces.  Derek wanting to never move, and the world never wanting to stop.  And so it was then that he found the answer to what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.  They find peace.  There was some sort of calmness that he found in that moment. He refused to move, and the world refused to stop, and somehow, that worked.  They felt for each other.  The environment welcomed him in movement: their lands stretching further and further to let him explore.  He, on the other hand, brought order to the surroundings.  He brought a constant state of being to an ever shifting place. So somewhere between Beacon Hills and New York, the road had became a place where Derek found himself being balanced.  His pain and loss and met with ease and the road helped him deal with it.  He had grown to be thankful for Laura's choice to drive.  For the longest time, he had just spent the nights driving around town, and sometimes the neighboring counties if he let himself, after Laura had died.  He couldn't turn to anyone with his pain this time and the only consolation was driving down empty streets in the night time with the windows down and the wind blowing in gently.  The cool air cradling his form during the tinted evenings.  Air ghosting over his hands and arms drawing him into the nature just outside the moving car.  He had flown into Beacon Hills when he hadn't heard from Laura in a while, so getting the car back there was a hassle.  The price was high and the companies took more money when he had insisted on it being rushed delivered.  In all honesty, just buying a different vehicle would have been easier. But it was Laura's and it would have been like getting rid a part of her.  She had gotten it just a few weeks before the fire as a birthday present. It was quite possibly one of his most cherished possessions: far more than just a nice car. It was tying him back to his sister. To his family. 

     He always loved driving.  

     But this time was different.  He found no peace in that night's drive.  He couldn't feel himself loosen up behind the wheel as the car passed houses and buildings and turns. He felt no relief this time and it frustrated him.  But that was when he realized that it wasn't the drive, perhaps, that wasn't working.  Maybe it was just the fact that he had began to feel this serenity from a different place.  Maybe it was the fact that now he felt calmest and most content in life when he was spending it with Stiles?  He would always love driving, that isn't it: he would still find peace in that, but Stiles had affected him so much lately.  He had just found out he loved the boy, so it was only reasonable that he was having trouble remaining calm when the kid was so terribly injured.  In fact, Stiles had actually become a different way for Derek to calm down.  It was as if Stiles became Derek driving.  Strange in concept, but it made sense.  Derek knew the kind of presence he put off.  He was quiet, imposing, intimidating, stiff, unmoving.  He knew he was guarded and tight and restrained and intense.  But Stiles was loud, free, welcoming, loose, and moving.  He was open and light and easy going and it balanced him.  Derek was unmovable and Stiles was unstoppable.   

     And that was why Derek couldn't find himself enjoying the drive this time.  He couldn't find himself leaning back into the seat with ease because Stiles had been put in the hospital.  His goofy Stiles was currently unconscious from an attack from his uncle.  And until that man was dealt with, Derek wouldn't relax.  If anything, thinking of Stiles only made him more focused on dealing with the issue at hand.  He was an alpha, and his pack member had been attacked.  Injured.   He was in love with Stiles and the boy didn't deserve it.  He deserved all the happiness in the world and to never feel pain and Derek would be damned if the bastard who did this to the boy he loved, got away with laying a finger on him.  

     Derek had only been to the house a handful amount of times but he was confident on his drive there.  The closer they got, the harder his hands gripped the steering wheel.  When he had gotten there earlier, Tom was no where to be seen.  From what he gathered, the man seemed to leave whenever he did things to Stiles.  Either that, or he would fall asleep.  The thought of him just going to bed after he physically assaulted Stiles made Derek's stomach lurch and his fists ache for something to destroy. The man might be out at a bar, could be just driving around, or he could very well be passed out in the house like nothing happened.  Did he even realize Stiles was missing?

     "Derek?" Scott's voice broke the man from his thoughts.  He had almost forgotten Scott was with him since the boy had been so quiet this whole time.  Scott had just buckled his seatbelt and looked out the passenger side window, never moving, never making a sound. Instead of speaking for himself, Derek just hummed in acknowledgement. 

     "I'm sorry."  Scott's voice was quiet.  But maybe more than that.  His words were heavy in merit and Derek could feel Scott's demeanor shift in that moment.  His shoulders seemed to haunch downward and his head slumped minutely.  The words were voiced, but his tone was withdrawn and almost timid.  It was like he was trying to pull in on himself: to hide away from Derek. Though it wasn't out of fear from the alpha.  No, Scott was hiding out of...guilt.  Derek had grown used to the scent over the years, and he could smell it wafting off the beta next to him.  It was always difficult to describe the smells of emotions, but Derek had always thought of it as a gentle smell.  It wasn't assaulting when you came across it.  It was a stale, almost musty, scent that only subtly engulfed the area.  It wasn't pungent enough to where Derek would scrunch up his nose, but it was just noticeable enough to where it made you uncomfortable.  Similar to the smell of an attic or even an old book, but not nearly as comforting or overall pleasant.  And now, Derek could hardly miss the smell in the car as Scott felt more and more guilty. 

     "I know." Derek knew that Scott was sorry, he really did.  And maybe it wasn't the best thing to say at the time because it came out clipped and cold, but that was what Derek tended to sound like in general, so you could't blame him.  Even still, Scott seemed to shrink in on himself further.  Seemingly because Derek sounded as though Scott's contriteness didn't matter. So he tried again. "I know you're sorry Scott.  I am too.  We all are."  With that, Scott pulled back a little bit and didn't quite look at Derek but he did shift his head a little away from the window. The beta didn't say anything however, so Derek took a breath and spoke anyways, knowing he would have to talk a little more even if he preferred silence.  His beta needed him, and he needed to say some things anyway. "What I said back at the hospital with you and the sheriff–I meant it.  We all have reason's to be guilty.  I should have done so many things differently.  If I had, maybe Stiles would have never ended up there tonight." At the admission, Scott did actually turn forward in the car.  His face was closed off, but Derek could see that he was struggling not to show how upset he was. "And what I said at the loft, Scott.." Derek trailed off for a moment, remembering the confrontation. Scott had gotten so angry so quickly and Derek had reacted brashly.  He wasn't thinking about what it may have seemed like to Scott.  He had just found out his best friend had been being abused by his family member.  Of course the boy would want to deny it, or even find an outlet for his anger.  At the time, it was Derek (and more subtly) himself.  Derek had snapped at Scott, doing the same.  He had wanted to find another thing to blame other than himself for not being a better alpha and noticing what had been going on. "I was wrong to say those things."  Scott stiffened slightly.  Not out of anger or fear or anything like that, but out of shock it seemed. "I said things that weren't true.  Just because you and Allison have become so close doesn't mean it was your fault.  Stiles knows that.  He came to me one night because he felt left behind.  Is that bad, yes.  But he didn't say he was ever upset that you have Allison.  He's happy you love her, Scott.  But he just...wishes it meant you still had him, too." It was a little strange talking about Stiles and himself even if it did involve Scott in some way, but Derek truly wanted Scott to stop being so upset about this.  First off, it wasn't the best time to feel guilty, and second, he realized Scott had done nothing worse than he himself had.  He was his beta and he meant well.  Scott was loving but to a fault and unfortunately, this time was a fault.  Stiles would forgive him now that Scott realized what he had done to their friendship.  Derek had overreacted out of fear and sadness and he needed Scott to know that. "I'm sorry I was so harsh, Scott."  

     Scott finally turned towards Derek at that moment.  He could feel Scott's eyes digging into the side of his face as he drove, so he turned his own face towards the werewolf.  There was a strange amount of emotions flying across Scott's face almost too fast for Derek to register.  But it didn't matter because Scott settled on a small, slightly sad smile.

     "Thank you, Derek."  Almost immediately, the scent of guilt diminished in the car.  It was still there, but not nearly as powerful.   Derek nodded slightly and turned his attention back to the road: they were only a few minutes away from the house now. 

     "Are you ready?" 

     "I am."  Scott was stern in his words now, a large difference than only moments before.  

     "Good."  And with that, they drove the rest of the way in silence.  

***

     Parking at the house was less than pleasing.  The dark looking house only brought back horrific images of finding Stiles on the stairs, and Derek would rather never return here.  But while the windows were all dark, he could hear the sounds of a television on so he knew Tom was at least home.  Just the thought of him made Derek suppress a growl.  He looked at Scott, and it seemed that the younger werewolf was in a similar state.  His jaw was set, only accentuating his uneven jaw.  His eyes weren't shifted but they were definitely fierce in their gaze.  

     "We can't shift." Derek spoke.  He didn't like the idea of forcing his wolf to stay concealed but it was important.  The sheriff didn't even know they had left and he was likely to show up any minute now.  They couldn't afford any mishaps in this.  They had to be quick and efficient.  The sooner he was in their hands, the better.  Scott nodded and took a deep breath.  They both got out of the car and made their way towards the house.  Not even waiting to knock. Derek opened the door and walked inside.  He was at least aware of what he would find, but Scott was completely unprepared for the intense smell of blood and pain and agony.  It assaulted their senses and he could both feel and see Scott tense up next to him.  It had to be terrible to see the damage of where the attack had happened.  Derek placed a hand on Scott's shoulder and gave a squeeze.  Not exactly comfort but at least acknowledgement. Scott nodded again, keeping his eyes firmly away from the stairs where the blood was still present: a dark patch collected on the carpeted steps. They walked towards the living room, not even bothering keeping quiet.  Tom wouldn't be a threat.  

     "That you Boy?!" A voice sneered from the room they approached.  Even now, Tom didn't know Stiles was in the hospital.  Did he not even check where he was?  How many times had he left Stiles to treat himself?  Derek felt his anger flare up even more. They turned the corner and Derek entered the room first with Scott close behind. He didn't want to waist any time with this.  Time was nothing he could spare and he had waited long enough as it was.  He simply walked towards Tom and didn't even register the shock in the other man's expression before he had picked up the bastard by his throat off the chair and pinned him against the wall.  With a thud, Tom's body hit the wall and he let out a pitiful grunt as his body hit the surface.  Derek could smell the liquor on his breath. 

     "What the hell are you doing here?!" He wheezed under Derek's hand.  His words were already raspy and Derek relished in the fact.  

     "So you remember me." Derek spoke calmly.  Stay calm. Stay calm.  He couldn't wolf out.  "Do you even know what happened to Stiles?"  When Tom didn't respond, Derek continued anyway.  "He is in the hospital.   _You_ put him in the hospital." He spat through clenched teeth. 

     "I didn't do _shit_." Derek squeezed Tom's next harder.  "Fine! But he got what he deserved." With that, Derek lifted Tom off the floor with his hands still clenched around his neck.  Tom's face was definitely turning red with the pressure and Derek could feel the pulse throbbing beneath his palm. This fucker actually thought Stiles deserved to be beaten so badly.  

     "I warned you."  Derek spoke, much calmer now. "I warned you that if you hurt him again, I would come for you."  Tom's eyes were clearly expressing how confused and scared he was.  He wasn't sure why Derek was there or even Scott.  He surely remembered Stiles' best friend, though he most definitely didn't remember Derek threatening him in his sleep.  But Derek was going to make good on his words.  Tom opened his mouth to speak but Derek interrupted him.  "You are not going to die." At the words, Tom's eyes widened and he tried to get more breath into his body though Derek's grasp didn't allow for much.  "I promised you would live.  I also promised my friend here," Derek jerked his head towards Scott "Another thing, but I won't be speaking of that."  He knew he had to keep his wolf in check, like had told Scott.  And he would.  But that didn't mean he couldn't do... _other_ things. "And seeing as that you don't even know what you did to him, why don't I let you in on it?"  Turning his head away from Tom, Derek looked at Scott.  His arms were crossed and his eyes were completely deadly.  He was the perfect picture of restrained power.  "Scott, would you please remind me of the injuries Stiles was put in the hospital for?"  Scott didn't let his gaze leave Tom for long, but he did look over to Derek, catching his sight for a moment.  Just long enough to show respect for his alpha before he returned glaring at Tom and speaking.

     "Broken fingers and carpals" Scott began, but Derek didn't let him continue before he reached for Tom's hand which was trying to loosen Derek's grip around his neck.  With one hand continuing to choke Tom, Derek used his other to snap Tom's middle two fingers backwards harshly, hearing and feeling them break.  Tom let out a harsh shout at the pain. 

     "Next?" Derek asked without blinking.  

     "What the fuck are you doing?" Tom panted as best as he could. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"  

     "Me? What is wrong with _me_?!" Derek roared in Tom's face.  He paused enough to keep his wolf behind the surface and Tom was silent. "Scott?" Derek asked when he was calm enough. 

     "Hairline fracture in the same arm."  Derek had to release Tom enough from his grasp so he could use both hands.  Tom gasped with relief when he could get air into his lungs again, but it was short lived because Derek took his forearm in both of his hands before he snapped it like a pencil.  Not enough to make a clean break, but just enough to send the fracture up the length of his radius that he needed. Derek wasn't sure if Stiles had the injury in the ulna or the radius, but he figured it didn't matter. Tom howled in pain, but Derek just returned his hand to Tom's throat.  He kept his feet on the ground but returned the same strength to the hold. 

     "Next?" Derek asked calmly. 

     "Two broken ribs." Scott answered just as easily, like he was naming things off a shopping list.  Before Tom could even register the words, Derek shot his hand out and landed two solid punches to his side, fulfilling the injury. Unfortunately, the broken ribs meant it was difficult for Tom to breathe so he had to release his hands from choking the man.  He wasn't going anywhere so it didn't matter. The man just slumped back against the wall, cradling his hand against his body.  He was groaning in pain and Derek couldn't find himself to care in the slightest.  This was what he had done to Stiles.  

     "Scott?"

     "Nose. Concussion. Back." Derek nodded in acknowledgement and bent down. 

     "No. No no please. Please stop." Tom whimpered before Derek. 

     "Stop?" Derek asked. 

     "Yes. Yes. _Please_. Please just stop." He begged.

     "I have a feeling Stiles asked you to do the very same.  But something tells me you never did. So neither will I." With that Derek snapped his hand out quickly and used his palm to slam Tom's nose upward and thus quickly breaking his nose.  Derek was tired of hearing the screams so he placed a hand over Tom's mouth and ignored the blood trickling out of his nose and onto his fingers.  "Now for the concussion." Derek mused. "But when I do that, you will get disoriented and won't really get to pay attention.  So know that I won't be doing anything to your back."  Tom seemed to realize this was a blessing even though he was still in an enormous amount of pain.  "Don't think I am doing you favors.  I just can't have you bleeding out before the cops arrive."  Tilting his head, he could actually hear sirens in the distance.  The sheriff would be here soon.  "But know you won't be getting away with what you have done.  This isn't even beginning to make amends for what you have done.  Stiles will have to heal both physically and mentally from you and you will never feel enough pain to makeup for that.  And if you think dealing with _me_ is bad, you just wait until you face your brother.  His _father."_ He didn't wait for another response.  Instead, he just placed his hands on either side of Tom's face and jerked it backwards hard enough so his head hit the wall with a loud bang.  Easily concussed.  

     With the silence in the room now that Tom had passed out from the hit, Derek let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.  Turning towards Scott, he stood and walked towards the beta.  He placed a hand on his shoulder again and forced Scott's gaze away from the unconscious man and towards him now.  There were so many things to say and so many things to think, but for now, they had to get out of the house.  Derek knew Scott deserved to see Tom get the beginning of what he deserved, but he didn't want the boy to get into any trouble with the police for being present at the scene of this...not really crime, but incident. Scott nodded, a little disoriented now that the whole thing was over for now, and let himself be lead by Derek towards the front door.  They quickly got into the car and started pulling down the opposite direction of the way they came.  They turned the corner just as the cop cars started driving onto the same street.  Just in time. 

     "We have to get back to the hospital.  Stiles will be waking up soon." Scott nodded and the two drove silently back towards the hospital.  

     What had just happened was nothing small.  It was messy and brutal and harsh and disgusting and horrible.  But so was what had happened to Stiles.  Tom deserved that.  Was Derek intending on just going there to attack Tom? No.  He wanted to make sure he was going to be put into custody.  It just so happened that the way that was going to happen, was that Tom was no longer able to go _anywhere_ due to his injuries.  Maybe not the most helpful of things he could have done, but he couldn't bring himself to care.  John would now get his brother under arrest and the next steps would be taken. All he could focus on now was getting back to the hospital and listening to Stiles heartbeat until the boy woke up.  That was all that could happen.  So that was all Derek would do. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be cool if Derek gave the same injuries to Tom that Tom gave to Stiles. Kinda disturbing to have happen and sorta "eye for an eye". I hope you guys agree and I loved all the helpful ideas. Some of the ones you guys gave I will probably use in future chapters. :] Gosh, I hope you guys liked what happened, haha! 
> 
> My next couple days are going to be kinda busy with Thanksgiving, so I hope you guys all have a great holiday! Eat lots and lots of turkey and pie and stuffing!!!! :]


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for not making you guys wait another month for a new update! I wasn't exactly expecting it to happen, but I got writing and suddenly I had another Scott and Derek moment and thought it should have its' own little chapter. Oops lol. I hope you guys don't feel like I am dragging this story out too much. What are you feelings and thoughts on the pace of this fic?

     The entire drive back to the hospital was another mix of strange emotions.  Scott was still fuming from being in the same space as Tom, as was Derek, but it was slowly ebbing out of the two of them.  They were tense and Derek was pretty sure that his wasn't the only jaw that was clenched harshly. He had cast a few glances over to his beta on the travel back to the hospital and Scott was obviously feeling the same way as he was.  

     "You did good in there." Derek broke the silence.  As much has he wanted to stay quiet, Scott needed to know that he had done well.  Besides, it was probably better for _both_ of them if they talked about it. Damn, Stiles really _was_ getting him to talk more.  

     "Did I? At Scotts unexpected tone, Derek glanced over at him. He knew the boy was tense: he was as well, but Derek never thought Scott would be...upset.  Sure, the kid would be unhappy with dealing with Tom, but Derek had figured the anger would overcome most other emotions. 

     "You don't think so?"  Scott didn't really respond.  Instead, he gave out a small shrug and a slightly irritated huff. "I take that as a no?" Derek prodded.  Again, Scott just shrugged in only thinly concealed anger. "Scott.   _I'm_ the one that is usually not talkative. You gotta meet me halfway here."  Derek was honestly at a loss for what he should say in a situation like this: he had no clue how to handle Scott since he hadn't the slightest idea why the kid was suddenly so upset.  So, all he did instead was think of what Stiles would be saying.  Even still, he was running low on ideas on how to get the kid to talk.  He didn't have the same talent as Stiles when it came to conversation, but luckily Scott relented. 

     "You said I did good in there."  Derek nodded. 

     "You did." Scott crossed his arms. 

     "I stood there."  There was a slight beat as Derek remembered what had only happened minutes before. Scott wasn't exactly wrong, but he wasn't looking at the situation in the right way. 

     "Scott-" Derek began.

     "I stood there and watched you deal with Tom.  I stood there and didn't do anything to the man who has been attacking my best friend for years.  I stood by just like I have stood by as Stiles has been abused." He sounded defeated but..stubborn.  Almost like a petulant child, but without the innocence or naiveté.  He was clearly upset at himself and Derek felt another pang of guilt for the boy. 

     "Scott.  I told you: this isn't your fault."  

     "I know it isn't!" Scott shouted in the small space of the car. Derek wanted to try and calm him down but his gut was telling him that Scott needed to go on.  So he just kept driving, if a little slower. "I know it isn't my fault that Tom decided to make Stiles his punching bag.  I _know_ that.  And I am thankful, Derek, that you aren't upset with me anymore and that you think I should let go that I wasn't there for him, but I _can't_.  I get it, I get it, I get it.  Just because I wasn't a good friend doesn't mean I was the one throwing the punches.  But I wasn't _there_ for him.  He kept giving me chances and I kept picking Allison.  I didn't throw the punches, no.  But I didn't block any.  I wasn't even there to treat the bruises with him." As Scott vented, Derek noticed his demeanor had shifted.  He had gone from glaring internally to outwardly...lamenting.  Again, Derek was being surprised at Scott's emotions.  He had quickly turned from fierce words embossed with anger, to harsh words uncertain in their pain.  It was almost entirely subconsciously, but Derek had pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and put the car into park.  He turned to Scott and saw his beta's eyes swimming with unshed regrets.  The boy reminded Derek so much of himself and it was almost painful to see it.  He knew how much grief one person could hold and he knew how much regret he had over Stiles.  He knew how much it killed him to know he didn't do anything to stop the abuse earlier, and Scott was just the same.  It was eating him up and it was tearing at his emotions.  Scott didn't know whether or not to be angry or in agony or both entirely.  It was a sudden revelation that consumed him now and Derek _knew_ how it felt. He had gone from ignoring his feelings for Stiles to admitting his love.  From an apparent happy relationship to a broken revelation that threatened the very thing he just found out held his heart. The eyes looking back at him were reflecting his own.  He knew their thoughts and their pains and their hates over this whole hell of a situation. 

     "Scott, I know.  I know."  Was all Derek said.  And maybe it was enough for Scott: maybe he understood all that Derek was trying to say.  Or maybe it was just too much for him, and it became the tipping point because it was then that his strongest beta started to cry.  Not like before in the hospital, no, that had been with others.  That was the kind of crying that you do when you're with people who know what you're going through.  It was strangled: emotional but bonding.  But this, this crying was different.  It was the kind of crying that happens when you're alone in your bedroom trying to stop the world from spinning.  The kind where you try your best to avoid.  You keep whispering to yourself 'you're fine you're fine you're fine' but you know you're not and eventually the dams break and you just _cry._   The kind of cry that happens when you're by yourself because you can't make sense of the world and you can't make sense of you. 

     It is no secret that Derek Hale is not the touchy-feely type.  He is quiet and abrasive and prickly and rude and standoffish.  He does not show many emotions, but he feels all of them.  He knows what it's like to love and lose those he cares for.  He knows what it is like to live and die in an instant.  So when his beta showed how vulnerable he was, Derek knew this was important.  Scott was his beta.  The first he really considered his. He was loyal and strong and an idiot at times, but he was loving.  Scott annoyed him in a way that his younger brothers used to.  Scott was Stiles' best friend and was important to the boy, which made him important to _him._ But even without the tie to Stiles, Derek knew Scott would always have a place in Derek's heart.  He reminded him of himself and of so many other things. The boy was someone he wanted to look out for, to teach, to protect, to care for, to love.  Scott was a brother and his brother was in _pain_.  So Derek Hale, non-touchy-feely,  abrasive, prickly, rude, standoffish Derek Hale turned the car off, unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned over the center console and wrapped Scott into a hug. He was still very much out of practice, and the position was strange in the car, but it was good.  Scott sobbed with body wrenching noises into Derek's shoulder and Derek let him.  He was close to crying himself, but for a different reason than Scott.  He was feeling so emotional because he was being overwhelmed with knowing that someone is feeling all that he is feeling. He is not alone in this.  Scott is not alone in this.  The others are not alone in this.  

     Scott clung to Derek and there was no real development of the hug.  There was no back patting or back rubbing or squeezing tighter.  It was just a strong, significant embrace.  They grasped onto each other and held it so neither would go.  A literal anchor. Different than the ones they always spoke of, but similar nonetheless.  And no less important in that moment. 

     "We will get through this." Derek said with a rough voice.  He felt Scott nod softly and they sat for a few moments more before breaking apart.  Instead of turning the car on, Derek looked at Scott. "We will, I promise.  You are strong, we are strong, the pack is strong.  Stiles is strong." With each word, Scott continue to nod, though he did still look horribly upset. "But you really did do a good job back there."  At that, Scott stopped nodding. "You were strong, you were present.  You were keeping me grounded, knowing a pack member was there.  You are still keeping me grounded.  I am in more control knowing my beta is with me in this.  That I am in this with my beta. And you stayed in control, Scott.  I know how hard that was for you not to attack Tom.  But I am proud of you.  You represented the pack and you showed that there are more people to deal with besides me. I promise, you did a great job.  Thank you for coming with me."  Derek let himself just talk without planning the words.  It seemed to work a lot for Stiles when he just rambled.  Well maybe not always, but Derek thought it would be the closest he could get to Stiles' voice and ability to speak.  

     Scott looked at him for a moment before closing his eyes and letting out a breath.  With the air, his shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension.  When he opened his eyes, Scott nodded again and Derek returned the motion. 

     "Should we be getting back to the hospital?  I figure it must be pretty important for you to get back to Stiles."  Derek caught that there was some kind of significance in the way Scott said that.  He was yet to tell anyone besides Isaac and Peter about the new relationship he and Stiles had yet to begin, but it was as though Scott was hinting at that very same thing.  Maybe Derek and Stiles were more transparent than they had hoped.  Derek hadn't exactly been secretive of how serious he was taking this whole thing.  But that didn't really matter right now.  They could deal with the little dramatic parts of who was dating who when Stiles was recovering.  

    "You're right." Derek spoke. "Stiles is important.  But so are you.  So is everyone.  You're pack, Scott, and I will always make sure you are alright.  You're important to me, too."  It was quick and it was truthful.  Maybe that would be how Derek spoke.  Maybe not.  The whole speaking thing was throwing him through a loop.  Scott looked back at him with thoughts swimming through his eyes but nodded again and his body seemed to relax even further.  They were both tense, but not nearly as tightly wound as minutes before.  With that, Derek turned the key in the ignition and pulled back onto the road.  He had his pack brother next to him and he was going to deal with everything as it came.  He would go back to Stiles and be there when he woke up next, if he had already.  He would deal with John when he returned from taking Tom into custody.  He would deal with whatever came because he would have Scott and the pack with him and he would have Stiles.  And Stiles would have him. 

     He just kept telling himself one thing as they drove back and knew he would believe it more when he was finally with Stiles again.

     'You're alright you're alright you're alright.'  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue where this chapter came from, honestly. I started writing the quick drive over to the hospital, and somehow I ended up with this hella emotional scene. Talk about a Debbie Downer! But I kinda think it brought up an important aspect about the relationships everyone has with one another without Stiles. In this situation, there is a very complicated and very unique commonality between those who are coping with a loved one who has had a severe trauma happen to them. If that makes sense. But this super short update somehow became one of my favorite moments so far. So I really really hope you liked it. I put a few really personal touches in this one that I connected with a lot so I hope it registered. But I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN TO SUDDENLY ADD MORE ANGST AND SADNESS TO THIS ALREADY SADFEST. There will be happiness in the future, I promise! And I know Derek is being a little out of character lately with all the emotional stuff but I tired to explain it a little bit this chapter. How he is still this big bad tough looking guy. But I have always been a firm believer in Derek's emotional side and that he in fact feels an awful lot. So in my mind, this really isn't all that far off from his character. Plus I have always thought Scott and Derek have this great younger brother/older brother relationship. I hope you agree! 
> 
> Finals next week, so wish me luck! Hopefully they don't swamp me too bad and I can keep writing. :]
> 
> I have always thought a good word count on a chapter is around 4,000. So most of my chapters have been that many words, near it, or even over it. However, sometimes that is why it takes so long for updates. Sooooo what might happen in the near future is that I might post more quickly but with shorter chapters. Maybe kinda like this one, but I'm not really sure yet. This is just something I have considered, so it might not happen at all, lol. I just wanted to give you guys a heads up!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are over at last! The past two week or so have been a blur of studying, testing, packing, moving, unpacking, shopping, and family time. And this is the first time in a while that I have had a decent amount of time to myself and I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to update. :] Nothing CRAZY dramatic in this chapter, and it's kind of short because I really just want to get it out before the holidays, but important nonetheless. Hope you enjoy. :]

     The drive back wasn't as tense anymore: Derek felt connected with his Beta more than ever, and the camaro made its' way through the streets at a fast but still technically not glaringly illegal speed. Derek had expected to feel awkward at showing such emotion but it actually felt....right.  Even still, he couldn't help it if he felt as though he needed scowl a little more and clench his jaw a little harder just to maintain some of his reputation.  Just because he was able to be vulnerable with his pack doesn't mean he wasn't a force to be reckoned with.  He was still an alpha: a dangerous alpha. 

     Thankfully, they arrived back at the hospital without much more delay and Derek was thankful that after looking at his watch that only about forty minutes had gone by.  They would have made it back even earlier if it weren't for their pit stop, but Derek didn't regret it at all.  He and Scott parked as close as possible before they both got out of the car and jogged back into the building.  It was kind of interesting that Scott had placed himself a little behind Derek because the alpha was well aware that Scott was one of the quickest of his betas and could possibly outrun himself on a good day.  Instead, he was keeping pace with his alpha and even letting him lead a bit.  It was a show of respect that Derek wasn't sure Scott even knew he was doing.  Derek's wolf preened at the concept and they made their way around the place, weaving down hallways and through doors until they were back in the waiting room.  The sheriff was absent (but Derek knew why) and Erica and Boyd were gone as well.  The rest of the pack were all sitting around the same few seats they had chosen earlier in the night.  Peter had gone back to pacing slowly. When Scott met Allison's eyes, they closed the distance between each other and enveloped each other in a huge embrace before they met lips. It wasn't messy or hurried or disgusting or anything like that: it was quick and sweet and intense and Derek knew then that while Scott had been letting himself be consumed by Allison, there was no doubt that he was in fact in love with her.  It was a rare thing to find such a powerful love and his beta had done just that.  Derek was...happy for him.  A little ticked that he had ignored Stiles over the relationship, but when all was said and done, it was good that Scott had someone.   Plus, Allison was a great addition to the pack even with her family's reputation.  She was from a line of hunters, but that grievance had long since been discussed and dealt with.  She was strong, quick, and lethal.  Derek was proud to call her a pack mate. 

     "Boyd and Erica?" Derek questioned as they entered the space.  Lydia looked up from where she was filing her nails.

     "Coffee."  She answered easily as she inspected her handiwork. 

     "Again?" Scott asked, sounding a little skeptical. He and Allison took the time to sit down in some seats across from the banshee and her beta boyfriend.  

     "It's been a long night."  Was all that the redhead responded with, and it seemed that Scott agreed.  Everyone agreed, actually.  As if the discussion of them summoned them, Erica and Boyd turned the corner with a tray of styrofoam cups with steam evaporating into the air.  Derek never cared for the coffee given in hospitals.  Maybe it was meant to be too bitter yet watered down on purpose.  Why should anyone want to get coffee at a hospital?  The only reason you would ever need the caffeine here would be in situations like the one they were in.  And no one wants to be in a situation like the one they were in. 

     "Is he..." Derek trailed off.  It was strange that he was finding it hard to even talk about Stiles right then.  He was all he wanted to talk about and yet he was afraid to even murmur his name. 

     "He hasn't woken up yet." Jackson answered his unfinished question.  The boy had no malice in his voice but the young beta did have his usual set of sternness on his face.  Jackson had always been a complicated soul, and Derek would always appreciate his most determined (albeit most aggressive) pack member. 

     "We went in just as you and Scott left." Lydia continued.  She and Jackson always seemed to be on the same wavelength which is sort of funny considering how often they bicker. There was intrigue in Lydia's mention of their leaving, but it seemed she knew better than to ask him right then.  However, Derek didn't miss her calculating gaze as it hovered onto Scott.  Surely he wouldn't be as fortunate as himself when it came to the banshee's incessant need to know what is going on. 

     "Melissa let you all in at once?" Scott's voice came from next to Allison and when Derek turned around, he found his beta all but in his girlfriend's lap.  If the situation wasn't so bleak, it would make him smile at how comfortable they each were with their role in their relationship.  Allison was more than happy to be come the strong, 'masculine', assertive one, and Scott was quite alright with needing her protection and affection as he took on the more submissive role.  They were flexible and comfortable and it was...impressive.

     "Of course not, McCall." Erica said as she flopped down into the seat next to where he was before she ruffled his hair.  "We went in groups of two or three."  Scott nodded along but quickly tried to fix what damage Erica had done to his scalp.  Boyd just silently sat down next to Erica and Isaac moved from his chair near Jackson to the other side of the silent beta.  That trio just was so damn inseparable.  Sometimes it confused Derek, but he usually could understand it.  They were all turned about the same time so they were learning everything together.  Living together, changing forms together, training together, fighting together.  It made sense. 

     "The sheriff got a call a bit ago and took off like a bat from hell..." Isaac mused next to his friends.  They all nodded slightly and Derek could, again, tell they wanted to ask questions but were waiting. Peter had caught his eye, and after a very brief silent conversation, nodded in respect.  Derek did the same and was planning on sitting down, but felt like he couldn't.  He just started to walk behind the chairs similar to Peter.  He didn't get many steps in, however, before Allison spoke up.

     "You're allowed back, Derek." She said with a gentle voice.  And he knew he was allowed, he really did.  And maybe that was why he was feeling so damn antsy.  He wanted to go back there so badly. He wanted to see Stiles and make sure he was alright, but he was so freaking scared. Because Stiles _wasn't_ alright. He was in the hospital for fuck's sake.  And a part of Derek didn't want to see him like that because he knew it was at least somewhat his fault.  

     He nodded at Allison's words but didn't make a move towards the doors he knew Stiles was behind.  Instead, he just kept the heartbeat present in his ears.  

      _Thump. Thump. Thump._

 _"_ Derek." It was the sincerity in the voice that made the alpha turn to his beta.  Isaac's eyes were gentle and his lips pulled in a small sad smile.  A knowing smile, just small enough to emote his knowledge and understanding.  He and Peter were the only ones who really knew (of Derek's knowledge) about Stiles' and his very new relationship. Isaac had always been the most understanding and empathetic of the pack, so it came at no surprise to have him seemingly know what Derek was feeling. He wasn't sure how he did it, but Isaac replaced Derek's fear with a pure _need_ to see Stiles.  His resolve grew and without letting it falter again, he turned towards the swinging double doors and pushed through them towards the sound of Stiles' heart. The pack was silent behind him, but he knew they were with him on this.  He could do this.  

     'You're alright you're alright you're alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot how busy the holiday season can get! But I really wanted to give you SOME kind of snippet of this story to know I'm still thinking of all you guys during such a hectic time. :] I bet I will be as busy as all of you this up coming week, so have a GREAT HOLIDAY SEASON and I hope you guys get lots of amazing new memories to look back on, no matter what holiday you are celebrating! :]


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys all had a wonderful holiday season. I'm super happy to be back writing again. :] 
> 
> I hope to get some of that classic Derek we all love back in here soon lol. Also, expect Stiles to come back into the spotlight again in the very near future. :]

     It was surprising how little Derek had spent time in hospitals.  Werewolves never really got sick, so he had no reason to be in the buildings.  Even after the fire, so many of his family had perished before help had even arrived, so there wasn't even a time where he was stuck in waiting rooms like he had been the past 24 hours.  Peter had been put in the burn unit, true, but he and Laura hadn't even known that until they were in New York and the bills started coming.  They easily paid for them, but the visits were rare considering they were told he was catatonic.  Besides that, it was still a little too difficult for either of them to even think about returning to Beacon Hills so quickly. 

     For the past few hours, Derek had pictured himself walking down this hallway maybe thirty times.  He imagined himself staring straight ahead, chin up, fists clenched, jaw set, shoulders taught.  He could practically feel himself as the images cascaded in his mind.  He had been stuck looking at those damn doors for what seemed to be centuries, just begging to get past them.  But now that he was actually doing it? He was not nearly as certain.  In fact, he found himself getting more and more nervous as the heartbeat he had focused on became louder and louder.  It was one of those situations where you think you know what to do and are fully prepared for, but then completely blank at the moment of truth.  It was as though every thought he had about getting to see Stiles went out the window and it took all he could just to not fall on his face while walking.  The white tiles of the floor were only a few shades lighter than the white paint on the walls so the trip towards Stiles was a little more blinding than he had anticipated.  The waiting room had at least had some color in the dark blue chairs and grey colored tile floors, but this was much less comforting.  

     Did he know what he was going to say to him?  Did he know what would happen the first time they saw each other?  Would Stiles hate him for what he did?

     Oh fuck.  Oh _fuck_ , he hadn't thought about that. The pack had told him that Stiles hadn't woken up yet, but that just meant if he did while Derek was in the room, he might have to explain what the hell happened.  He had promised him to try and stay out of it, but he had pretty much done the exact opposite when he had planned to all but kidnap him to get him away from Tom.  That enough would get him into deep shit with the boy, but the fact that he had brought him to the hospital, told the entire pack what was happening, as well as his father...well things might not be so great between them right now.  Funny: Derek just got Stiles into his life in the best way possible and now his actions might take him away in an instant.

     He didn't regret it, though. No, never regret it.  Stiles needed help and Derek wanted to give it, and sure he fucked up on the execution on that, but he would do it over in an instant. Stiles would survive this and Derek would rather die than let him back into that home with his uncle. 

     Unfortunately, Derek seemed to run out of time to really prepare his thoughts because the heartbeat had lead him down the hallways and out front of a door.  He could hear the beeping of the monitor easily through the wood and it mixed with the actual thumping of Stiles' heart, creating a strange duet.  He wanted to stay outside forever since he wasn't really ready to face the boy he loved, but he also didn't want to spend another minute without seeing him...so he opened the door. 

     The room was strangely silent, and Derek didn't really know why.  There was the beeping of the machines, but other than that, there was a noiselessness to the environment that almost came off as suffocating.  Like when you step outside just after a terrific thunderstorm: the air is humid enough to where the space around you feels like it's pressing in on you.  He could still breathe, but there was a labor in it that reminded him where he was and why he was there.  The room itself was probably about the same as any other in the building: darker walls than the hallways but still not very much darker than a grey, light tiled floors a single set of windows with a bench built onto them probably used to place cards and flowers on for longer stays....this would probably be a longer stay. The lights were turned down to not much more than what it took to see properly.  Derek could see fine, but even still it was a lot less jarring to be in there than it was to be in the hallway. There was a couple chairs in the room that looked semi comfortable but nothing too glamorous.  There was a stand next to the bed and on it was a pitcher of water with a single glass next to it, already filled though Derek wasn't sure it looked like anyone had drank any of its' contents yet. Derek Stood just a few feet inside the room, seeing how it was much larger than expected as it also came equipped with a bathroom though he didn't take the time to explore in there.  Instead, he just looked onto the scene in front of him.

     The most notable feature of the room, and the most obvious was the rather large hospital bed that had plenty of room on either side of it for nurses and doctors to move about.  Now that he thought about it, saying the room was big was a bit of an understatement: it wasn't cavernous by any means but it was clearly much larger than the usual rooms in the hospital. Derek had no question why this was because while the hospital bed seemed otherwise similar to the others, it did contain one key difference: Stiles wasn't laying on the bed. Melissa had mentioned that he was being supported by a system normally used for burn victims but it was still a bit of a shock to see the boy suspended over the mattress. There were multiple large straps of padded cloth hanging down from an elaborate but efficient machine that cradled Stiles legs, thighs, pelvis and hands, upper chest and his head.  It was a visible reminder of Stiles internal injuries because the only reason he couldn't be laid down onto his stomach was because his ribs were too damaged to allow for it. He was wearing a hospital gown, but the back was undone for his back.  His lower body was covered with a blanket to maintain his modesty but probably also for some warmth, but his back was left exposed.  Bandages covered his skin from his shoulders to almost where the blanket began just above his rear.  The gauze was extensive enough to where Derek wasn't sure where the exact welts were, but he didn't want to know yet. There were just the smallest spots of red starting to appear on the stark white fabric, so the nurses probably needed to change them soon enough.  He would get a eye full of his back at that time.  

     There were things that he couldn't refrain from seeing, though.  Like the way Stiles' arm and hand were already covered in a white cast, or how there were more than a couple tubes hooked up to his arms feeding him various medicines. There was so much to take in that Derek took a few breaths before walking around to the other side of the bed.  Stiles head was turned towards that side and Derek didn't know what he wanted more: to see those whiskey eyes looking around, or to see them hidden behind his lids, blocking out reality for just a little longer.  He received the latter, when he finally reached the other side of the bed.  Stiles' eyes were gently closed and it didn't look like he would wake up any time soon.  So Derek just grabbed one of the chairs and sat down right next to the bed, and looked at the boy he only recently knew he loved.  He watched Stiles as he breathed in and breathed out.  He listened to the song of his heart beating along with the monitor, and relished in each and every beat. He studied each bruise on his face and promised himself to never forget how he looked.  To never forget what he looked like with a black eye and a bandage covering his nose, or any of the other marks on his body.  To always remind himself of what it feels like to see the most important person in the world to him laying there in a hospital bed. 

     Derek was overwhelmed with what he was feeling and for a moment, he didn't know what one was going to win. So many emotions were fighting over which got to control his body: fear, anger, pain, sadness, worry, protectiveness, love.  They were all at war over him and he wasn't sure which was going to win.  He could feel the tears in his eyes for seeing his boy like this, he could feel the anger bubbling in his chest ready to rip out, the fear ready to keep him stiff in terror, the worry enough to immobilize, he was feeling _everything_.  And just as he thought he would implode from feeling it all, Stiles' face changed.  His brow furrowed minutely and his face scrunched the slightest in discomfort.  Immediately, Derek gently placed a hand on his face and let himself take as much pain as he could.  It wasn't nearly as drastic as before (especially thanks to the meds taking most of the pain) but there was still some to relieve him of.  As Stiles' face relaxed back into the sleep the pain started to awaken him from, Derek's mind cleared as well.

     He would protect.  Right now, Tom was being handled and Derek was with Stiles.  He wouldn't leave his side until it was absolutely necessary.  Protectiveness won out, but only because love won before _that_. He could feel everything else, but most importantly, he knew he needed to feel the _love_ for the boy before anything else.  If he felt the love, protectiveness would come too.  He wasn't sure he understood it fully, but he trusted himself.  He would be the alpha he always needed.  The protector he always deserved.  Derek would be what his pack needed, what his injured pack mate needed. This much he knew.  Until then, he would wait until Stiles' opened his eyes.  There were people being arrested, pack members waiting for good news, doctors running tests, and so much more, but Derek couldn't focus on anything other than watching Stiles rest.  He couldn't see anything other than the beautiful boy in front of him reminding him of all that was important. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't post a crazy amount of in depth teen wolf stuff, but I do post a gif set here and there on my tumblr. Feel free to go check it out, follow if you want, and ask me any questions (if you have them) off anon so I can answer you privately. :]
> 
> zachokay.tumblr.com


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is back!

     Stiles would have said it was like waking up from being asleep, but that wasn't exactly true: sure, he was unconscious, but he didn't _know_ he was unconscious. Okay, yeah that didn't make sense.  But with sleeping, you at least had a sense of rest or _something_. For Stiles, it was as though he had stopped existing for a period of time, and suddenly came colliding back into reality.  How can you possibly feel like you're waking up if you didn't even know you were asleep?  

     The first thing that assaulted him was not sound, believe it or not, but sight.  Looking back on it, he would probably be surprised since he always heard about people 'coming to' and hearing voices and other sounds around them. But with Stiles, the first thing that his body encountered was a soft looking bed laying beneath his body...literally. Stiles was floating, and not in the hypothetical or metaphorical way.  His entire being was above a bed, and he would normally call that into question right away, but it was as though his other senses (including understanding and plain normal brain function) were slowly coming back. His eyes did not blink away the sleep or anything like that: instead he seemed to just go from having his lids closed, to having them open.  A light switch from off, to on.  He could see the light blue of the sheets and pillow case of the bed and the almost papery appearance of them. 

     Crawling into his mind, sound returned with a molasses paced speed. It was thick at first, like a quilt far too heavy for comfort, spread over his body.  There were muffled cacophonies of sound on either side of his head perhaps not quite harsh enough to warrant such a title. Slowly, the fog lifted from his senses, and the noises became less muffled and maybe more gentle, as strange as that sounds. It was like they had been fighting to be heard, but now that his mind was clearing, they didn't need to try so hard.  Instead, the steady beeping of something off to his right kept time.  His other side was greeted with other small noises, mechanical in nature but not exactly threatening. 

     Similar to how he awoke, Stiles' understanding seemed to suddenly appear.  Like some talented magician had conjured his awareness out of seemingly nothing. For one moment, his body was simply experiencing his surroundings, but not _understanding_ them. But as soon as he had started to question the reality in the slightest, it was an impossible wave of thoughts, emotions, and memories flooding his being.  In that instant, it clicked.  The blue of the bed beneath him having a place in his memories as the same kind he saw his mother wither away on.  He was in the hospital.  And although it took a moment of contemplation and recognition to note this one thing, everything else suddenly just _clicked._  He remembered Tom and the fight and him trying to escape and Derek and- _Derek._   Derek. Derek. Was he alright? Did he kill tom? Did he attack him? Where _was_ Tom? His dad? Did his dad even know what had happened? Did he know what  _really_ happened? What about the entire pack? How long has he been in here? This was the _exact_ thing he didn't want to have happen. He had tried so hard for years not to end up like this.  If he had ever had to go to the hospital from Tom, he went by himself, and on his own accord.  He couldn't remember how he got there, and that meant serious shit. 

     As he seemed to realize more and more, the machines started to speed up in their noises, which only made him panic _more._  He could feel himself restrained but somehow still above his bed and that was making him scared and confused and if he didn't calm down they would come in and ask questions and then he would have to tell everyone and fuck fuck fuck fuck-

     "Stiles? Stiles, hey, hey, listen to me. I'm here, hey. _Hey_." A hand suddenly appeared in Stiles' limited vision and was placed gently on his cheek.  He was almost positive who that hand belonged to, and he was pretty damn sure he knew the voice, but soon enough, Derek's image entered his sight.  His eyebrows were pulled together in concern but that didn't stop Stiles from where he was struggling in whatever contraption he was in.  He tried moving his legs and arms and even his head the best he could, but they wouldn't move too much. Seeing Derek calmed him down the smallest amount, but he was still panicking.  He attempted to speak but all that came out where harsh, breathy sounds.  "Hey, I'm here. You're safe.  Breathe with me, alright?"  He could see Derek trying to exaggerate his breathing to help him keep pace, but it was honestly no use.  Stiles could tell his panic was too far along to really be stopped.  

     Accompanying a blur of movement he could only just make out from the edges of his sight, he thought he made out Mrs. McCall's voice amongst other unfamiliar people, but Derek never really left his side.  He could tell someone had been trying to pull him out of the area, but his body refused to move. Instead, he seemed to keep eye contact with Stiles, while he thought he felt a new wave of fog roll over his body.  He wasn't sure what had happened, but suddenly he felt as though his weight was being reduced more and more until he was nothing at all.  He went from panicking to sleepy in a matter of seconds, and he wasn't sure if it was because the panic attack tired him out, or because of the drugs they might have just pumped into him, but it didn't really matter. 

     Because for a moment, his world went back to that peaceful unawareness that he had just come out of. Only this time, he got to see Derek's face before he closed his eyes again. 

*** 

     The second time Stiles woke up, it was much less intense.  This time, he awoke similar to how he normally would have if he were in his own bed.  His body aroused to consciousness and Stiles found himself blinking slowly at the sleep still holding onto his eyes.  There wasn't the sudden onslaught of reality hitting him, and he took a moment to really try and keep himself calm.  Regardless of being sedated, the panic attack always left him with a clear mind after it was done.  Well...as clear as it could be with all the pain meds he was on.  He wasn't sure what exactly was wrong with him, but there was a certain wobble surrounding his mind that seemed to scream " _drugs_ " in large neon letters.  Embracing the disjointedness, he let himself try and exist with as little acknowledgment of his current state.  

    "Hey." A gentle, but very familiar voice spoke next to him.  Again, Derek was the first person he encountered after waking up. The words still seemed slightly muffled in his ears, but they were clear enough. He opened his mouth to speak, but Derek interrupted. "Don't try and say anything too loudly.  The doctors came in and had to uh..calm you down and they mentioned after you were asleep that they had to put a breathing tube in for a couple minutes when you first got here, so your throat will be a little sore for a bit." Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but even before speaking, he could feel the tenderness of his throat. So instead, he spoke quietly and hoarsely.

     "D'rek?" It sounded strained and like he had never said a word before, but it got the werewolf's attention.  He Still couldn't really see much of anything besides the bed, but there was enough movement in his peripheral vision to see Derek's form. 

     "I'm right here, Stiles." Cam an immediate response.  

     "Wha-what happened?"  Stiles rasped.

     "You called me after..after Tom attacked you.  I got there and found you pretty much unconscious and took you to the hospital.  You've been here for about 10 hours.  It's pretty late." The answers all came quickly but clearly, answering a few questions Stiles was probably going to ask, so that saved him some breath.  

     "Oh." Was all he could really say.  There were too many thoughts and things fighting in his head to really come up with anything else. 

     "We don't have to talk about that yet." Derek supplied. There was a pause and then he spoke again. "I'm..I'm sorry-" 

     "Stop please." Stiles Interrupted. 

     "What?"

     "We don't have to talk about that yet." He mimicked. All he wanted right now was to ignore whatever was happening.  He wanted to just  _be_ for a moment.  "Hey Derek?" 

     "Yeah?"  

     "Why am I floating?"  He tried his best to sound like his usual self, but it came out a little warped. 

     "There are some...injuries on your back that made it impossible for you to lay on your back, and you have a broken rib and that would have interfered with your breathing..so they have you in a harness usually used for burn victims."

     "Oh." Was all that came to the boy's head.  He should have been more surprised, or at least...emotional, but it was kind of difficult to focus on much of anything. Whatever the people gave him when he was last awake must have been some serious stuff.  Then again, Stiles wasn't so sure he wanted to feel anything, anyways.  He thought, at least objectively, that having trouble really staying present in the moment might be a blessing in disguise.  The calm before a storm.  What the storm would be, though, was a mystery.  He could still feel the uneasiness in the bottom of his stomach, though.  An uncomfortable sinking feeling that told him he shouldn't be so relaxed, which only confused him more.  

     Stiles must have been making faces, or some other form of expression, because soon Derek's hand was placed gently on his cheek.  

     "Hey, it's alright.  Like we said, we don't have to talk about anything yet."  His words were gentle, but his face was stoney.  The same kind of stoney that Stiles (until recently) usually received from the man. Tilting his head, Derek seemed to concentrate on something else. "I will be right back.  There are some doctors outside that I want to talk to." Stiles, although still a little feathery from the meds, felt his stomach clench in sudden fear of being alone.  "I am going to be right outside for two, maybe three, minutes. I will come right back, I promise." And sure, Stiles believed Derek's promise, but he still felt the uncomfortable sensation when Derek left his line of sight.  Stiles heard the door open and close, and soon there were light murmurs from the other side of the door.  He thought he could make out Derek's tone, but he wasn't so sure.  The boy began counting to sixty, twice, the best he could, but he didn't make it far before he fell back into a much calmer sleep.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to take some time for all the healing that needs to happen...to happen. :/
> 
> But yay for getting to be back in Stiles' POV! I am kinda in love with writing from Derek's side so who knows! Maybe I will end up writing a bunch more chapters from his POV, too. I just know I really want to get some focus back on Stiles, haha. We will see where things take us. :]
> 
> Also, so far second semester of college seems really intimidating and busy. Hopefully my classes don't kick my butt too badly so I can have some down time to write. :/


	32. Chapter 32

     Waking up this time was far less intense.  In fact, Stiles woke up vastly similar to how he would wake up on any other day.  He felt the world starting to connect with him again, and his mind gradually lifted from sleep.  He let his eyes stay closed for a moment before he blinked them slowly open.  The world was blurry for only an instant before his eyes focused onto the now familiar hospital bed, seeming to lay beneath his hovering body.  

     "You're awake." A calm voice sounded from next to him.  

     "I am." Was the only thing that came to his mind.  It was short, but it wasn't exactly false, either. He tried his best to blink away the sleep, but he could feel a bit of the gross crust that gathers by your eyes when you sleep.  His mother always told him it was the sandman that had left it.  Unfortunately, his hands were bound at his sides, so he had to ignore the slightly uncomfortable feeling. "How long was I asleep?" He didn't even have to guess as to who was next to him.  For some reason, the voice was already familiar enough. 

     "Long enough to get some actual rest." Derek mused. There was a weird tone to his voice and Stiles wasn't exactly sure where to place it amongst the emotional scale.  It wasn't gentle enough to be condescending, nor was it calm enough to be emotionless.  It had a firmness to it without becoming tyrannical, and the fondness within the tone wasn't overbearing either.  Leave it to Derek to confuse Stiles...as always. 

     "That didn't answer my question." He responded.

     "Technically, it did."  He was answered with.  

     "You know what I mean." Stiles sighed.  Somehow he must have been rubbing off on Derek, because the man was almost never as sassy as himself.  Maybe that was something he could look into later, but right now, it seemed that was about as much banter as he could manage.  Quickly, his surroundings came back to him and he really put together where he was...again.  Derek must have sensed the shift in his mindset.

     "They had to give you a sedative." A much quieter Derek spoke.

     "I wasn't freaking out that much." Stiles tried half heartedly to joke, but it didn't work.  He was right about the banter thing being exhausted for now. 

     "They were afraid of you tearing your stitches."  At that, Stiles was pulled back even further into the severity of the situation.  He let Derek's words hang in the air mainly because he didn't know what to say next.  

     "Do I have a lot?" He spoke after a significant pause.  A pause almost long enough to be the kind that end one topic of discussion and lead into a new one.

     "Stitches?" Derek asked, as if to really check if they were going to stay on the topic.  It wasn't like Stiles to go that long without speaking about the same thing.  When Stiles hummed in acknowledgement, Derek spoke again. "Yes."  Again, Stiles wasn't given an exact answer.

     "Derek." Was all he said.  He put as much emotion into that name as he could in the moment, and it worked: it said what he needed to, and he heard a sigh from the wolf next to him.

     "You have seven welts on your back, though only five of them needed stitching.  They were long and deep enough to where they needed them, and now you have about eighty stitches for each."

     "Four _hundred_? How the hell is that even possible?" Stiles almost yelped. 

     "Stiles, I asked." Derek quickly interjected. "I thought that seemed like a lot, too, but Melissa said that since the cuts are on your back, they are higher a risk of splitting open with any movement whatsoever.  Add that onto the shear size of them, and you actually have a very reasonable amount." There was a pause, and then he spoke again. "That was exactly what Melissa told me."  Of course Derek memorized what Melissa had said about Stiles' state. Why was Stiles surprised?

     "That still seems like a lot." He spoke.  It was so unreal right then.  He was awake and thinking, but there wasn't any real panic like there had been before.  When he had last thought about what happened to get there, he had literally needed to be sedated.  Now, he was just thinking about it without any real terror.  Well, actually he couldn't even say that because he felt completely scared.  His father was bound to hate him. Scott probably never wanted to be friends with him again.  The pack will only think of him as a mistake.  Derek..Derek will think he's broken.  Probably regrets anything he had ever done in the recent past.  Probably regrets telling Stiles he wanted to be with him.  He felt all of it.  There was the fear and anger and sadness, but the panic just wasn't coming. It was like turning on a car that was out of gas.  All of the parts worked, but the one thing to really make things go, wasn't there. "Why am I not panicking?" 

     "You make it sound like a bad thing." Derek responded.

     "I'm serious, Derek.  Why aren't I freaking out right now? I should be freaking out right now."  Derek was silent for a moment.  Stiles wished he could see his face, but instead, he could only gaze angrily at the bed beneath him.  

     "I don't really know the complete mechanics of it, but whatever they gave you before to let you sleep apparently stays in your body for a little bit after it keeps you asleep."

     "For how long?" Stiles quipped.  He was more frustrated with everything than actually angry, but it was coming off as such.

     "A couple hours." Derek answered calmly. "But before you freak out about that, you should know that after the sedative wore off, you stayed asleep. Apparently your body needed more rest than the drugs forced." So that explained why he woke up like he normally would: he actually _was_ asleep.  "It will wear off soon." 

     "Good" He answered.

     "Good?" Derek sounded incredulous. 

     "Yes good."

     "Why good?" 

     "Can we please stop saying the word 'good'?" Stiles snapped.  He was getting more and more upset with himself but there was still a disconnectedness to his mind that was just adding to the frustration.  There was so much he should be feeling right now. So much he should be _doing_. And right now, he was confined to a freaking hammock from hell. There was a silence after his small outburst and it left him instantly regretting it. "I'm sorry."  

     "Don't say that." Derek answered immediately. "Don't say you're sorry. You have no reason to say those words and I won't hear it." 

     "I just want to be able to feel what I want to feel." Stiles murmured. 

     "Even if they aren't feelings you like?" The wolf asked. Stiles let out a long breath before he actually responded.

     "It just scares me that I'm not actually responding like I normally would." He said quietly. "I don't feel like me right now, and I really want to." Stiles let out a long sigh and tried not to let himself get too upset...even thought that was apparently not possible. "I can't even _see_ you." 

     "You used to think seeing me was aggravating." Derek spoke softly.  There was a slight edge to his voice that seemed to say that he was trying his best to sound light as well, but even he was failing.  But then again, if Stiles, the one who always was cracking smart ass responses, was having trouble, surely the one and only Sourwolf was as well. 

     "Well I changed my mind." Stiles mumbled sadly.  There was a pause in the conversation but soon enough Stiles heard movement on his left from where Derek was probably sitting in one of the slightly uncomfortable chairs usually found in hospital rooms. There was only a slight shuffling sound before the bed his eyes was forced to look down onto dipped on the left side and in slowly slid Derek. It looked similar to those classic spy movies where the hero needs to navigate through a hall filled with lasers and they bend and duck in order to not set off the alarm.  Derek slid into the bed like jostling Stiles would send off some security system, but sure enough, the wolf successfully placed himself on the hospital bed that Stiles had been strung up above.  

     "How about now?" Derek asked quietly.  Stiles just nodded in answer, and slowly, the 'click' that wasn't happening before, started to crawl back into him.  The switch flipped and he now could feel himself ease back into a regular mindset.  His feelings were staying the same, but now they were starting to carry weight.  The regret started to seep back into his mind and take hold there.  There was a crushing feeling that surrounding his chest and reminded him of his mistakes.  He got himself here.  He got his uncle in trouble.  He made everyone worry.  If he had just been more careful, they wouldn't be here and wouldn't have to deal with all this.  There was the frustration that seemed to boil further.  He knew this was right, and knew this was what he had wanted: Tom to be discovered.  He wanted so badly to get help so not to hide things from the people he loved. But now that it happened? Well now it was a different story.  What if it all went wrong and they all hated him?  Would Derek actually want to stop whatever they had started? Everything he had thought only moments before suddenly carried much, much more weight. 

     "I changed my mind again." Stiles whispered remorsefully. 

     "About what?" The wolf asked.  Looking down at the man, Stiles only felt worse.  Derek's captivating eyes looked back at him with a gentle but constant gaze.  His lips were pursed slightly as if waiting to let his own thoughts out: something so rare for the silent alpha. His hair was a bit in a disarray, but that was probably from lack of rest. And it just struck him that Stiles really didn't deserve to have Derek in any way.  The man was too good for him, and he was literally broken.  He was being held together by stitches and ropes.

     "I don't want to feel like me." It must have clicked for Derek that the drugs had worn off almost instantly after they had talked about when to expect it to happen, because Derek's eyes softened only slightly. The wolf didn't have a chance to speak before Stiles continued. "And I changed my mind about us."  With those words, Derek's eyes shifted from soft, to scared.  There was a minute fear found in his irises that Stiles couldn't quite see.  Again, he didn't let Derek speak. "Look at me.  I should have never have tried to leave.  This was a mistake. I am always a _mistake_ , Derek.  You wanting me is a mistake.  There is no reason for you to.  I can't even lay down on a bed, for Christ's sake." 

     "You are not a mistake." This time, it was Stiles who was interrupted, which was a rarity. "You might feel that way, but you need to know I don't." There was a fierceness in Derek's eyes.  All the fear trampled out by determination. 

     "I'm broken, Derek."  Stiles felt his eyes starting to well up with tears, and he prayed for the meds to somehow kick in because he would rather take not feeling at all, over being an emotional wreck.  At least then he wasn't likely to have another panic attack. 

     "My family was burned alive by the woman I thought I loved." Was Derek's immediate reply. "I listened to almost every single one of my bloodline scream as their flesh was burned from their bodies, try to heal itself, only to be burned off again until they died.  One by one I heard screams be silenced by the roar of the fire that I helped start." Stiles tried interjecting, but it seemed that Derek had more to say. "You might be broken, Stiles, but lord knows I am too. Would you tell me I don't deserve to be happy?"

     "No, of course not." He answered honestly through a tight throat. 

     "And you deserve to be happy too.  You make me happy." Derek said with a small smile.  His eyes were glossy, but he was keeping it together far better than Stiles was. "Do I..do I make _you_ happy?"

     "Yes. Yes." Stiles nodded.

     "Good. Then we don't a problem here."  And sure, there were definitely feelings that were making Stiles afraid, but damn, he loved Derek.  He loved him so much and as much as he thought the wolf deserved better, he wanted to stay with him.  Maybe that made him selfish, but it didn't matter because in that moment, he would have given anything to just be held by him. 

     "I wish I could touch you." Stiles mumbled.

     "I do, too." Derek agreed. "But I can touch _you_." And with that, Derek lifted his hand slowly and placed it gently on the side of Stiles' face.  They were only about five or six inches away from each other's face, but even that seemed too far away.  

     "How bad do I look?"  Stiles dared to ask.

     "You're injured pretty badly." Derek mused. "But I think you look beautiful. As always." 

     "You shouldn't lie to people in hospitals." Stiles responded.  Derek looked at him for a moment before he leaned his head up towards the floating boy above him, and gently placed his lips onto Stiles'.  It was a tender kiss that didn't really have all that much pressure, but it was perfect because it was exactly with both of them needed in that moment. 

     "I didn't lie." The alpha whispered as he pulled away. There was still so many emotions swirling around in Stiles' mind but for the smallest instant, he let himself stay in the moment with the man laying beneath his floating body. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we all want to deal with Tom, but I think it's more important to focus on Stiles' healing for now. But rest assured: Tom is definitely not out of the story. I know some people have mentioned that they are getting a little tired of having so many chapters in the hospital, but unfortunately that isn't going to change very soon. As much as I would like to see Stiles out of there, it wouldn't be realistic enough. There will be much less "are they going to make it??!?!" moments but there needs to be some healing (both physically and mentally) that will take place here before he can leave. I hope you guys stick with it, and if not, thanks for giving it a shot!


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been working on this update for a long time by writing small sections whenever I have the chance (which is not very often). But I tried making it a tiny bit longer because of the wait you guys had to deal with. :]

     They stayed like that longer than Stiles expected: Derek laying on the bed while Stiles seemingly hovering above him.  Part of Stiles tried to stay in the moment...okay all of him tried to stay in the moment, but it wasn't exactly working.  He was trying his damn best to focus on the person beneath him, but even Derek wasn't enough to keep his mind off of everything.  At first, the fact that they were alone was something that seemingly couldn't be ruined.  But as time went on, as the seconds ticked by, the boy started to think about how long they had left.  It was like that feeling he would get when he would lay in his bed at night trying to sleep.  He would initially feel at peace because of the rest he was about to get, but the more time passed by, the more anxious he got.  He would think "If I fall asleep now, I will get exactly seven hours and forty-two minutes of sleep." and then, "If I fall asleep now, I will get exactly four hours and thirty-six minutes of sleep." and so on until he was watching the clock tick down to when his alarm was set to go off. More and more, he could only wonder when they would be interrupted, and Stiles would be forced to address what exactly had happened.  Sure, he was kind of facing it now, but he and Derek were still separated.  The wolf was still helping him hide from the reality (whether Derek knew he was or not..though he probably did.). 

     "Hey." Derek placed a hand on Stiles cheek, careful of his sore eye.  Well, his whole face was sore, but still.  Stiles' eyes flicked back to the man, not noticing when he had tried his best to see the door regardless of his lack of vantage point. 

     "Sorry." Stiles mumbled. He should be grateful for Derek right now, not ignoring him. Turning his head the best he could (which wasn't very much at all), he pressed back into the palm. 

     "Don't be. But I can hear if anyone is coming.  I promise I'll tell you." He spoke reassuringly.  Stiles nodded minutely but shut his eyes.  He couldn't hear as well as Derek (obviously) but he heard enough.  Rhythmic noises came from either side of him signaling that the machines he was hooked up to were in fact working. He could hear the pull of air into his lungs as he breathed in.  He heard the slight strain his chest gave if he breathed too deeply (apparently that's what happens if you break a rib..who knew?). Even still, he could hear someone outside his door every few moments.  His ears only picked up on them when they were directly passing his room, so it was a little nerve-wracking. He supposed Derek would be able to hear the steps heading right towards them so they were pretty set.  Unfortunately, Stiles was forced to rely on someone else.  

     That sounded like he didn't appreciate Derek.  God, he appreciated him.  He appreciated Derek more than he appreciated anyone. Especially right now.  

     "Sorry." Stiles murmured.  Even thinking about not appreciating Derek made his chest hurt.

     "You already said that." A slightly teasing Derek responded. Stiles scrunched his eyes a bit.

     "Oh. Right...sorry." 

     "Stiles." The boy opened his eyes and felt himself grow uncomfortable with Derek starting at him. 

     "What?" 

     "You're going to hear this a lot, but let me be the first one to tell you. This was not your fault."  At the last sentence, Stiles shut his eyes again.  He wasn't sure he could listen to it.  Not from Derek, not from anyone.  Because he already told himself the same thing.  And obviously he forced himself to believe it enough to the point that he actually tried to get away from Tom, but that didn't mean he was fully on board with the whole idea.  He was struggling enough as it was to just believe it for _himself_. So having other people tell him that he shouldn't feel guilty was going to drive him insane, if not make it worse. 

     "Please don't." He said quietly.  His voice was still a little shaky from the breathing tube they must have put in for a while.  The walls of his throat were scratchy and he could feel them tighten up even further with his emotions bubbling up as the time went by.  Even now, it was difficult to swallow thanks to the irritation and the newly formed lump in there. 

     "I'm serious, Stiles. What Tom-"

     "I'm serious, too, Derek." Stiles cut him off as he opened his eyes again.  And sore throat or not, Stiles Stilinski has been known to have a talent for rambling and he was about to use it. "I get that you're being there for me. I see it, I understand it. I might not exactly seem like it, but I do. I really really do.  And you're right: I am going to hear that a lot. But just because people tell me it, and _I_ tell me it, doesn't mean I am going to agree. I can't even understand my emotions half the time so I can't tell you what I am going to feel in the near future. But I can tell you what I feel now: and it's everything.  I am so fucking sick of feeling this shit.  I feel angry. I'm angry at myself and my uncle and Scott and the pack, and maybe even you. But that just makes me feel guilty. Because I shouldn't be angry at myself, right? That's what you're saying and what everyone else is going to be saying.  And I shouldn't be angry at Scott, or the pack, and I sure as hell should not be angry at you. Because I love you. God I love you and here I am, a fucking collection of shattered pieces being held together by stitches and will power.  I feel the shame and the fear and the confusion and and anxiety and the panic and the pain.  My chest is aching, my arm is throbbing, my head his pounding, and now my throat is killing me. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be in the hospital while my entire family is scared shitless because of what I did. I don't want to deal with Tom. I don't want to have to face everyone after this. I don't want to admit at what a failure I am. I don't want to have everyone telling me how much I am loved and cared for because every single time they say 'It isn't your fault.' or 'You have nothing to be sorry for.' all I hear is 'Tom was right.". And if I don't want to face them, Derek, I sure as hell don't want to face you. Because if thinking about disappointing them is making me this scared and this upset, the idea of doing the same to you absolutely _wrecks_ me."  The only reason Stiles even stopped talking is because he literally ran out of breath.  Trying to pull in a few lungfuls, Derek took his chance to interject. 

     "I am not going to leave your side." And maybe Derek Hale hated talking, but he could rant as well...in his own way. "And I have no clue what is going to happen next, either.  But I love you, too, and we both know I am just as broken.  If you're afraid to face me, I am petrified to face you.  I am scared, too, Stiles. But I love you. I don't know if I can say anything else because I don't know anything else.  I don't know the pain you're feeling. But I know that I love you so I will keep saying it. I failed you once and I won't fail you again. I am going to be here as long as you want me because I will never stop wanting to be next to your side.  Or in this case, underneath your body. I love you, and every time you feel yourself getting overwhelmed, look at me. I will be here.  If your palms begin to buzz again, I will hold them. If you feel ashamed, tell me. I will remind you how proud I am of you. I love you."  It might have been shorter than Stiles' rant, and a bit more awkward. But it was damn important.  Stiles could feel the sincerity in Derek's voice even if he still stood by his own rant.  And as Stiles found himself trying to come up with what to say in response, the time ticked by.  And after enough time passed, he realized that maybe there didn't need to be any more discussion on the topic.  Maybe it was just some kind of statement they both needed to say.  "Did I just make Stiles Stilinski speechless?" Derek mused after a significant pause.  

     He could tell that Derek felt the same way about the two rants.  And the fact that Derek had tried to make a joke really meant that he understood Stiles, too.  He was trying to make an effort in the way that Stiles would, and that was kind of an amazing thing to do. 

     "Don't sound so proud." 

     "Don't sound so surprised." Derek countered.

     "Did you say that you will never want to stop being underneath my body?" Stiles smirked back at Derek.  Seeing the wolf mentally go over his words, Stiles literally saw Derek make the contact with what he said.  His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed red at the implication of what he said. Sputtering a bit, Derek tried to come up some kind of response. "Ah, now who's speechless?" Stiles chuckled.  It was a strange laugh though considering he was still a little tired from the emotional outburst they both had, but it was still genuine.  Even Derek had to scoff at his own unintentional innuendo.  It wasn't exactly a laughing fit, not even close, but it was somehow a much needed break in the atmosphere.  It didn't change how either person felt, or what they were dealing with, but it reminded them that they cared for each other. It sobered them up from the intoxicating effect that sadness can have on a person. They both calmed down from the slight laughter, and they stayed in the silence for a bit more.  It was as if they were trying to hold onto the peace before the battle gates opened.  But unfortunately, Stiles knew that it wouldn't last long. 

     "I don't know if I can do this, Derek." He admitted.  And damn, if that wasn't true.  There were so many things he just didn't know. What would happen with him? Would he heal soon? Was his father mad? Disappointed? Confused? Did the pack know everything? Was Tom in jail? Was he even a suspect? What did everyone know? Holy shit, even just thinking about what he didn't know just made Stiles' stomach twist in knots.

     "I do. And you can." Derek answered easily enough. 

     "But I'm so–" Stiles was going to say 'ashamed', but Derek interrupted him.

     "Someone's coming." You would think by the sound of that, that the two of them were hiding from captives.  And in a way, Stiles really _was_ hiding, but not for that reason.  He stopped mid sentence, and strained his ears the best he could while Derek shifted out from underneath him.  At the sight of the wolf leaving the bed, Stiles' heart rate picked up.

     "Derek?" He asked worriedly.

     "I'm not leaving.  I just don't having me lay underneath you is exactly allowed here.  Plus, I doubt they would appreciate us in that position at this time." Derek reassured.  He might not have seen him, but Stiles could still feel the alpha's presence.  Even more, as the footsteps finally were loud enough for Stiles' hearing, Derek placed a hand on Stiles own arm. It was a bit strange considering he was now on his right side, so his arm was in a cast, but he could still feel the pressure of the man's fingers gently placed on his upper arm.  Absentmindedly, Stiles realized that Derek had moved between himself and the door. Listening hard, Stiles could hear the sound of the door handle turning, even over the beeping of the machines next to him. 

***

     The sheriff let out a long sigh, and rubbed his palms down his face in hopes to clear his mind. Of course it did nothing, but he was at his wit's end.  Sitting in his cruiser outside the hospital, he had been trying to motivate himself to finally get out so he could face his son.  The entire drive from the station to the parking lot had been spent by him telling himself to just park the damn car and get out.  But now that he was actually there, it was difficult for him to actually do it.  But just thinking about seeing his son again made his chest want to explode from the pain.  His little boy, covered in bandages and casts and stitches.  Stiles wasn't even able to lay down on a damn bed for heaven's sake.  John had to stand by and watch his the various machines monitored his only child's breathing, heart rate, and temperature.  He looked on as his boy hovered above the bed: still too injured to breathe on his stomach, and too torn up to lay on his back.  

     This is what he had done to him.  This is what Tom had done to Stiles.  His own brother had attacked the one last family member John Stilinski had.  And this wasn't even the first time.  John had no idea how long it had been going on. How many times had Stiles tried getting out of visiting his uncle?  The sheriff could recall a time when Stiles had jumped at any opportunity to visit the man, but this time Stiles had definitely tried to get out of it.  Maybe John should had listened. Afterall, Stiles was in high school and was more than capable to take care of himself.  

     Apparently he was far better off on his own anyway.  He wouldn't have had to deal with Tom again.  He wouldn't be in the hospital right now.  All of this could have been avoided if he had just let Stiles stay alone.  

     But then would he have ever found out? Would he have ever found out that Tom had been abusing his son? Probably not.  If Stiles had hidden it this long, he would have gone longer.  And that just made John wonder why he had hidden it.  Why had Stiles wanted to hide it? Was he scared of what John would do? Was Tom threatening him? All of these questions were invading John's head and even still, all he could focus on was building up the courage to finally face his son.  He was the sheriff of Beacon Hills: this should not be an issue.  He should be able to face his son.  

     Without thinking it even further into the ground, John got out of his cruiser and walked  quickly towards the hospital.  His memory was still a little fuzzy of where Stiles' room was, considering he was pretty much only focused on actually finding out what the hell was going on.  Lucky enough, he remembered enough turns to where he only took about an extra minute to get back to the group of people waiting for news.  Isaac and the blonde girl were dozing in the chairs while the taller, dark skinned boy was drinking some coffee in the middle of the two.  There were so many of these dang kids that John had trouble keeping track of all of their names.  It was always difficult for him to remember what people were called.  Faces, he could remember, but names? Let's just say that he was relieved that he and Claudia had agreed to call their son by his self designated nickname.  He had originally been all on board to let his wife pass on her family name to their son, but he quickly discovered he had difficulty pronouncing it.  Of course, years later, he could not roll the name off his tongue like it was his own, but 'Stiles' had simply stuck.  

     Lydia and Jackson were both on their phones, but if the looks on their faces were anything to go by, they weren't truly engrossed in their technology.  Allison and Scott were talking softly next to one another, and John could see what his son had mentioned about the two.  Stiles wasn't one to talk about his feelings that often, even as much as he did yammer on, but every once in a while he would let slip a few things.  On more than one occasion, Stiles had muttered something about Scott not having time for him or canceling on him for Allison.  His son didn't elaborate on these times (even after his own coaxing), but John had always listened.  Part of the sheriff wanted to be a little angry at Scott for not being someone Stiles could have turned to to talk about what was happening, but apparently neither was he. He was just as guilty as Scott in this situation, if not more.  Actually, he was a lot more at fault than Scott.  Scott was in love.  John was just...a bad father. He had to be to not realize his baby boy was being beaten to a pulp by a family member. As he passed the group of teenagers, they all glanced at him.  Questions were clearly swimming inside their minds, but no one spoke.  It was clear that he had left to deal with Tom, he said so himself, but what had happened once he had arrived at his brother's house...well that was something they were still in the dark about.

     And they were going to stay in the dark until he had a word with a certain Alpha. But even before that, he wanted to see Stiles.  

     He just wanted to see his son again.  Injured or not, not knowing how he was doing in that exact moment was actually driving him crazy.  Ignoring the questioning looks, John walked quickly past the group of loved ones and towards the room Stiles was in.  Walking down the hall, he could only feel the similarity between now and with his wife.  He had grown far too accustomed to the whitewash of the hospital.  The floor a polished ivory that almost glowed after the janitorial staff waxed it at night.  He was too familiar with the sound of his shoes against the ground as he walked down the hallways.  He was too used to the florescent lighting causing everyone to look a little too defined.  He was too used to the feeling of heading towards a hospital room.  

     But then again, the feeling wasn't something he had experienced before.  He knew this pain: the fear that underlined everything.  Claudia had been sick and quickly his mind was on a constant edge of fear.  He never knew what was going to happen to his wife: to his family.  And while he knew what it was like to walk towards the hospital room, the emotions were like brand new.  There was no shame with Claudia: it wasn't his fault she got sick. Really, it wasn't anyone's fault.  There was not regret when she got sick.  Regret that they hadn't spent more time together, but not regret about something that could have been prevented.  But here...here there was shame. There was regret.  There was so much shame for not doing better for Stiles.  For not being what he needed.  And the regret? John wasn't even sure he could fully comprehend the amount of regret he had. 

     He wasn't sure he wanted to.

     The walk was both long and short.  Long in that he just wanted to be next to his son immediately, and short because he was afraid to face him at all.  But as he stood outside the door, he took a few last calming breaths.  What to expect, he didn't know. There was no sound coming from the inside, but that was either because Stiles was sleeping, or Derek (who was missing from the waiting room), was preparing Stiles for whenever a visitor arrived. John sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying his best to wipe the past from his life.

     "Oh, Claudia..." He spoke softly, not even finishing his thought. Instead, he let the line trail off, hoping his intentions were heard even if his words were not. Stepping forward, John turned the door handle and walked inside. 

***

     Being as Derek had not been growling or flashing his eyes, or just being...him, Stiles knew whoever was coming through the door was probably no one to worry about.  Probably just a doctor coming back in to check on him or change his bandages. Wait. Did his bandages need changing? Had people been doing that? So when the door opened, and the sound of shoes against the floor echoed in the small space, Stiles expected to hear a few questions come his way.  What he didn't expect was the voice that spoke. 

     "Is he awake?" Of course he knew the sound of his father's voice, that isn't even in question.  And while he was fully conscious, he couldn't find the words to use.  He opened his mouth, but the hesitation in his mind and fear in his chest had successfully stopped all words from forming. Derek obviously knew what was happening, if the small amount of pressure that was given to his arm.

     "He is." Derek's calm voice spoke. Part of Stiles wished that he had lied and said that he was sleeping, but the other part of him knew that his heartbeat would give him away.  Even now, it was beating just slightly faster than usual. His father wasn't a dumb man, and he would have easily been able to tell that he was awake.  There must have been some silent communication going on between Derek and his father, because nothing was said for a few moments.  Stiles was far too nervous to fill the silence.  There was the sound of Derek moving from where he was standing to the other side of Stiles' body.  The sound of a chair being dragged from its' place was heard on his right: his father. The older man must have pushed the chair right up to the hospital bed and sat down with his arms resting on the mattress, because Stiles could see the smallest movement of the sheets.  His dad must have been wringing his hands through the fabric in order to try and calm his nerves: it was a Stilinski habit to play with their hands in general.  But why on Earth would he have anything to be nervous about? 

     "Stiles..." His father began but didn't finish.  A portion of Stiles knew that his father was just lacking the words, but saying his name seemed like it was exactly what his dad needed to lead with.  Still too scared to really respond yet, Stiles let his dad search for more to say...if he wanted to say anything.  God knows that Stiles didn't have the slightest clue what his father was going to tell him. 

     This was almost exactly what Tom had been warning him about.  He had always told him that if he ever told anyone about what had been going on, especially his father, they would reject him.  They would tell him how this could have been prevented if he had just stopped being so...himself.  Stiles could only imagine what his dad was going to say, and he wasn't sure which was worse: waiting to hear it, or the actual words.  Would his father forgive him for putting him in this situation?  Laying there in that twisted version of a hammock just made him feel worse: more helpless.  

     "I'm sorry, Daddy." Stiles choked out.  How strange it felt to immediately have his voice break. Usually he was able to retain at least some of his strength (voice-wise) when he was upset before it broke.  Sure, it would waver a few times, but never break on a word like it just did.  But something about actually acknowledging that his father was in the room just made it more serious.  Maybe it was because he realized he failed (again). From the moment his dad left, it was like he was on a mission to not get found out.  IT was kind of like that every time he had to stay with Tom, actually.  His dad would leave, and when Stiles found himself standing in his uncle's house, he knew that he had to make sure not to get caught. He couldn't let the bruises show, the discomfort, pain, fear, anything alert someone else.  But this time, he had gotten too careless.  He had realized how much he cared about Derek and that lead to the wolf discovering his secret.  And now he was forced to face everyone about it.  

     God, he didn't regret what had developed between him and Derek. Never. But it would be stupid to pretend that it didn't play a part in how he had gotten found out. It wasn't the alpha's fault, though.  If anything, it was Stiles' fault for being so reckless.  Maybe he had wanted Derek to find out, maybe not, but now that he was in the hospital, he wasn't sure how this was better than keeping everyone in the dark. And knowing his dad was actually here and facing him just made Stiles realize how big of a fuck up he was.  How long he had been a fuck up.  For years, he had hidden this, and as time went by, it just made it worse.  He didn't realize how much pressure he felt to keep it a secret and now that it wasn't even an option, just made him both relieved and terrified.  He failed his dad and it all just came crashing back to him when he finally spoke.  The words he said weren't even directly about Tom: he simply apologized.  But saying so meant he finally accepted that his dad knew, and he couldn't take it.  Immediately he felt tears flood his eyes and fall towards the mattress below him.  What a strange feeling to be crying but not feel the tears cascade down his cheeks.  The liquid just filled his eyes and then plummeted towards the fabric below him, making small dots on the sheets that showed where his sadness landed.  

     "No." His father reassured, and Stiles felt a familiar pair of calloused hands on his face. "No, you don't need to apologize." Hearing his father's voice, he knew that he was crying. He had grown really familiar with the sound of his father speaking through tears when his mother died.  They both did a lot of crying and speaking at once, back then.  

     "But I shouldn't have-"

     "Then I forgive you." His father interrupted.  "I love you, Son.  You are my entire world and I love you.  And if you think you have done anything wrong, even though I know you didn't, I forgive you. I forgive you twenty times over.  And until you understand that you are not at fault, I will keep reminding you that.  I love you, Son."

     "But what about-"

     "It doesn't matter right now." His father interjected again. "All I care about is that you're safe now. We can deal with the other things later." What Stiles didn't see is that his father gave a significant look to Derek, even with his watery eyes.  Clearly the sheriff knew Derek had visited Tom before he had.  Though rather than questioning Derek at that time, John focused back on his son. "I am so sorry for leaving you."

     Stiles wanted to respond; he wanted to speak. But his voice was just caught up in sobs.  Both men weren't bawling by any means, but the tears were flowing constantly.  Stiles would try to speak but the liquid leaving his eyes would just cause him to lose his voice. It was emotional, but it wasn't overly emotional.  They were both just overcome with the things that put them in this situation, and the feelings they were dealing with.  Derek, not wanting to intrude, gently excused himself and explained that he would wait outside for a minute.  When the door closed behind him, Derek stood in front of it, arms crossed and jaw clenched.  

     God help anyone who tried to enter that room at that moment. 

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! A little bit from the sheriff's point of view! 
> 
> I am finally recovering from getting my wisdom teeth out, so that's good! School is really really busy for me now, and I'm trying my best not to implode from being torn in ten different directions. But I still love writing this story, and will continue updating as I can. :] Sometimes I have to go a long time without being able to even write a single word, but when I finally get the chance to, I get so excited to be working on this again.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just got done with something that has been a huge time commitment the past three months, so I am a little shocked at having a moment of free time to write! It's such a strange concept right now! A longer chapter than usual, so sorry for any mistakes!

     There hadn't been much talking between Stiles and his father once Derek left.  If anything, there had only been the sounds of their sobs.  They both cried pretty damn hard at first, I mean it was a little overwhelming, but they had calmed down enough to where they had settled into a quiet cry-fest.  The tears were pushing themselves out of their bodies, but their forms were not shaking from them any longer.  Eventually the two Stilinski men only had to deal with a few tears every once in a while.  The pillow below Stiles was more than soaked by the time they had gotten to this point, and his eyes were pretty irritated from not being able to wipe them as he wished to.  To pacify some of this, Stiles' father had routinely dabbed a tissue around his son's eyes so as to take away some of the extra moisture that had accumulated. They had each aired a lot of their demons, and now there was a quiet sense of release that hung in the air.  His father had remorsefully admitted to his feelings of failure as a father.  He had repeatedly apologized for not being there when he should have, how he was so blind to not have seen what was happening.  Stiles had eventually got him to stop saying such things: it was the opposite of what Stiles thought of the man, and hearing his father take so much of the blame was heart wrenching. Though, admittedly, his father had most likely kept saying the deprecating words inside his mind rather than out loud.  Stiles was like his father in that sense.  He too, had started off by spitting out as many apologies as he could muster.  He had told his father he was a horrible son for putting him through this.  He sobbed that he was a mistake and he should have never had angered his uncle like he had, how much it was his fault that he got hit so much.  After Tom had firmly told Stiles to never say that again, he had since gone to profusely apologizing internally.  

    Where were they supposed to go from there? Was there some switch that needed to be flipped that helped them go from "sobbing" to "healing"? If there was, Stiles would be the first person to seek it out.  But instead, he and his father sat there for what seemed like hours, but was probably minutes.  As the moments ticked by, Stiles felt himself grow tired of the situation he was in.  Obvious, yes, but he wasn't really thinking of the whole...Tom situation; he was actually thinking about how he was being strung up like some kind of animal in a museum to be gawked at by the passerby's. He was tired of feeling like some kind of sick balloon-teenager mutation.

    Okay, and he was getting tired of dealing with so many people wanting to comfort him about this. Sue him. He didn't want anyone to know about this in the first place, so having gone from complete secrecy to complete disclosure was more than difficult. Hoping to change the dreary demeanor the room was filled with, Stiles cleared his throat.

    "I'm floating."  He mused. His father gave a surprised chuckle.  Part of Stiles wondered why he had sounded somewhat shocked in his laugh.  Was it because of what he had said? Or was it because he was actually laughing?

    It didn't really matter, Stiles supposed, because he was just happy to see (or rather hear) his father laugh after causing so much stress.

    "You are." His father replied.

    "I'm like a superhero."  Stiles tried his best to sound confident.

    "You always did want to fly." His father considered.  "This could be the first step."

    "Next time you'll see me, I will be soaring."

    "Well." His father started. "Why don't you take it easy for a bit, Kiddo." And yeah, his dad had a point there.  Superpowers aside, Stiles didn't think he would be moving very much any time soon. Not that he really wanted to...in fact, he would rather never move again, but being stuck with a single view of a pillow was starting to get boring and really frustrating really fast.

    "I don't think I have much say in that, even if I wanted." Stiles sighed. "Looks like I will be in this damn thing for a while?"  It was more of a question just because he was still kind of fuzzy on what exactly was wrong with him.  He figured his chest was fucked up...why else wouldn't he be allowed to lay on it? So...if he was going by that same standard, his back must be just as bad.  

    Then again, he didn't really need to wonder about that.  The memories of Tom pulling out his belt were enough.  More than enough, actually.

    "Stiles?" His father asked, concerned.

    "What? Oh, sorry." Apparently he had been starting to shake slightly.  He only noticed because he had felt his father place a gentle hand onto his arm, giving the smallest amount of pressure in comfort.  

    "It's alright. Where did you go just now?" His father asked gently, but somewhat reserved.  He was clearly in unknown territory...they both were. Instead of Answering, Stiles just shook his head gently, hoping his father would pick up on what he was saying.  There were too many things that he couldn't even begin to consider telling his father (or anyone).  There was a small nagging voice in the back of his head that told him that the truth was bound to come out very soon, but that didn't mean Stiles couldn't try to put off the inevitable.  

    Thankfully, his father didn't push it.  Instead, he went back to the question Stiles had asked.

    "Well, I haven't had the chance to talk to Melissa too much, but my guess is they will try to get you out of this..contraption as soon as they can." Stiles hummed in agreement, but didn't really know where to go from there so the silence went on for a minute before his father decided he knew what to discuss. "So." He started with.  

    Immediately, Stiles knew what kind of 'so' this was.  His father had used this kind of 'so' a total of three times before, one of which ended with both men being slightly traumatized after talking about the birds and the bees. Before Stiles really had the chance to prepare for what his father could possibly be going with this, the sheriff went on. 

     "What's going on with you and Hale?" Of all the things he could have said, that was one of the last Stiles expected. Come to think of it, that was the very last thing he would have ever had guessed would come out of his father's mouth.  After the question, Stiles drew a blank. Well, that isn't true.  His mind actually burst into twenty-five million different thoughts and questions, flooding his head with infinite life, only to be all violently sucked into a magnificent black hole. When Stiles gave no more than a eloquent 'uh' in response, his father prodded. "Stiles?"

    "Sorry. What did you say?" He asked, though he knew very damn well what his father had just asked him.  But in true Stiles manner, he was trying to stall.  

     "I asked what's going on with you and Hale." His father repeated, not deterred in the slightest. 

     "Peter? I tend to avoid him."

     "Stiles." His father said gently, but still firm. 

     "Ah. You mean the other one."

     "Yes, Stiles. The other Hale." His father sighed. "The one that is currently standing outside the room acting like a guard dog." 

     "Eh. I would say he's more of a guard wolf-"

     "Stiles." So apparently now wasn't the time to push his father's patience.  He couldn't see the man, but he could easily tell his father was getting quickly frustrated.  There wasn't much else Stiles could say, though.  He was still confused what he would tell his dad at this point.  Maybe his dad was actually asking about the guarding thing.  If he was, Stiles could work with that. He could chalk it up to some sort of alpha werewolf instinct to protect, which probably isn't too far from the truth. With that, Stiles clung to the last bit of hope that he was in the clear. 

     "What do you want to know?" He asked. 

     "Is there some kind of relationship going on between you two?" Well. There goes the hope that he wasn't talking about that. 

     "Why would you ask that?" Stiles clung to anything at this point that would help him gain some time to think of what the hell was going on. What the hell could he say? 'Why yes father, I am actually just starting a new relationship between myself and Derek, the very wolf you just referred to as a guard dog.' Yeah, no.

      "Because it seems like there is some kind of relationship going on between you two." His father dead panned. Damn, the man was really not pulling any punches here. 

      "You really aren't wasting time getting to the point here, are you?" Stiles asked. Normally his father was just about as graceful as Stiles was at these kinds of conversations (so about as graceful as a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time.). 

      "No." Jeez, even that was like a bandaid. Just ripping it off quick. 

      "Why?" It was the very last thing Stiles could even ask that would have a hope in the world to give him a moment to think.  And ironically, it did.  Although it wasn't a long pause, his father was silent for a split second before continuing on his hunt for an answer. 

      "Because I very recently was reminded how precious life is and I don't want to waste time on something as important as the people in your life."  Now it was Stiles' turn to be quiet. 

      His father's reasoning made sense.  There wasn't really anything to wonder about, or even consider.  If anything had come out of this situation right away, it was that Stiles was already far more thankful for what he has had so far in his life. Did Stiles want to waste time with his father by pretending he didn't recently discover he loved Derek? So sticking with the bandaid theme, Stiles just let himself spit it out. 

      "Yes." 

      "Yes?" His father sounded shocked. He probably didn't expect to have an answer so quickly and so easily. 

      "Yes." Stiles repeated. 

      "Yes..what?" His father seemed skeptical, still. The man most likely expected this to be some kind of stalling method like Stiles was known to use. 

      "Yes there is some kind of relationship going on between us." Stiles could feel his ears turn pink at the admission, and was thankful, for once, that his dad couldn't see the blush in his cheeks.  The only one able to see that was the very objective pillow his face was raised above. There was another moment of silence (thankfully the rapid fire responses seemed to finally be over), and Stiles felt himself start to worry that his father was about to freak out. 

      "Oh." Was all his father finally said after what seemed like eons. 

      "Oh?" Stiles repeated. "That's all you're going to say?  I admit that I am in a recent, I want to start off by saying recent very recent, relationship with Derek Hale and all you want to say is 'oh'?" Stiles asked.  He wasn't upset by his father's reaction at all, he was just so damn surprised. 

      "Am I supposed to say something else?" His father asked.

      "I'm just...I don't know. I guess I'm just shocked?"

      "Why?"

      "I mean he's a werewolf." Stiles noted. 

      "Stiles, almost everyone you hang out with is a werewolf." His father responded. 

      "He's older than I am." Stiles remarked.

      "That's very true." His dad mused. "But your mother was older than I am by five years, so I obviously have been okay with an age difference before." Which, yeah, that was a good point.  

     "He's...I mean, he's a guy." Stiles murmured. At this, he heard his dad chuckle again.  And just like the first time, he sounded somewhat surprised to be laughing. 

     "Stiles, do you think I care about that?" His father asked gently. "God, I couldn't care less who you were attracted to, as long as they treated you right.  Does Derek treat you right?" 

     "Of course.  I mean, he's a big sourwolf, but he's been...he's been there for me.  I think he's the one who found me...you know..." Stiles let himself trail of, and his father must have picked up on what he was saying because the air of the room got far less comfortable.  It wasn't as though the conversation had turned sour, but they were just reminded of where they were and why the were there. His dad hummed in understanding and they sat there in quiet a bit.  

     Did this just happen? Did Stiles just admit that he was in a (recent very recent) relationship with Derek Hale, and his father was okay with it? He had always known his father would probably be okay with the whole guy thing, but there had been the underlying worry that anyone would have.  There was always the off chance that he wouldn't be.  Tom had always told him how much of a mistake and shame he was to his father, so it was easy for him to assume this would add to it. But..but he was okay with it. Before he let himself get too far into his thoughts, his dad spoke again.

     "I won't pretend that you would listen to me if I asked you to abide the age of consent laws in place here, but please, please use protection-"

     "OH my GOD, Dad!" Stiles squawked. 

    "It's important, Stiles." Of course _now_ is the time that his father starts to sound as awkward and uncomfortable as Stiles does. Of course. 

     "Dad, trust me when I say we are no where near that far yet." If Stiles' cheeks were burning before, they were absolutely ablaze right now. 

     "Oh. Well." His father stumbled through the words. "Well that's. It's still important. A lot of different diseases now can be-"

     "Yes. Protection. Got it, Dad." Stiles reassured, and thankfully his father seemed about as happy as Stiles was to drop that part of the conversation. Before that, Stiles' dad reminded him that there would be more talk about what exactly had changed between Derek and Stiles, but he did drop it. After that, they quickly moved onto a new part of a conversation that really ended up the two of them sitting in silence.  It was a welcome silence that only changed slightly when Stiles yawned for the first time. 

     "You should rest, Kiddo." His father said sadly.  It seemed that Stiles' yawn had brought them both back into the reality of the situation.  Stiles was going to respond, but the words just seemed to escape him.  Maybe that was another frustrating part of what had happened with him and Tom.  Sometimes Stiles wanted to say more, but he couldn't figure out the words.  Stiles knew there was more in his head, but the sudden reminder of what he had hidden for so many years had jolted him into silence. Being pulled back into the reality of having hidden his injuries and secret from his dad and loved ones just sucked all the life out of him.  If anything, he was starting to feel as...dark as he did when his dad first entered the room.  The discussion about Derek was a welcome distraction, but now that he was aware of the truth of the situation, it was just that much worse.  What's more, his body was quickly reminding him that even a conversation was powerful enough to cause his injuries to start aching again.  His chest was tight from crying (which made his ribs hurt), his face was just sore as hell thanks to all the talking, and he generally was very uncomfortable. Lucky enough for him, his body was tired enough to pull him into sleep before his thoughts and emotions reduced him to a puddle of tears once again.

***

     When Stiles came to again, he noticed there was light shining onto the bed below him.  A thin strip of gold had inched itself onto the pale blue fabric on the mattress.  His eyes blinked away the sleep, and Stiles vaguely thought about how he desperately wanted to brush his teeth. His body was far less sore than it was when he had fallen asleep, but the rational part of his brain supplied that the nurses had probably given him some medicine through the night.  Flicking his eyes to each side the best he could, Stiles tried to see any sign of someone else being in the room with him.  While he didn't see anything outside of his sight lines, he was able to hear the gentle breathing on his right if he listened hard enough.  For a moment he wondered how he would be able to tell who it was, but at that moment, the person next to him started to snore lightly.  Smiling softly, Stiles recognized the snore from the many years of hearing it come from his dad's sleeping body midway through a movie.  The man rarely got the chance to spend a night at home, so he had always tried his best to spend any of that time with his son.  Being as Stiles always wanted to watch a movie, the man had allowed himself to sit and watch the many sequels of Star Wars, only to succumb to sleep early on.  Stiles never complained, though.  His dad had always been busy, and Stiles was just happy to have the man safe at home, even if he _was_ sleeping. 

      "Dad?" Stiles asked quietly.  His voice was a little sore from talking so much last night, and it was even more rough from just waking up.  Licking his lips carefully, even that small movement made his nose throb.  He always wondered what it would be like to have a broken nose, and he was pretty sure now was his time to find out.  

     "Stiles?" His dad somewhat jolted awake. "Are you alright?" He immediately worried. 

     "I'm fine." Stiles reassured. "Well. I'm..yeah. I wanted to tell you to go home."  The boy didn't need to ask if his dad had stayed over night.  The man had surely camped out for hours, only falling asleep for an hour or so before Stiles had woken him up. 

     "I'm not going anywhere, Stiles."  Not feeling too up to arguing, Stiles let his father win this.  Melissa would probably make him leave soon, anyway.  "At least go get yourself some coffee." 

     "I suppose I could go for a cup. I'll be right back."  With that, he heard his father scoot the chair he was sitting in away from the bed, and walk out of the room.  As the door shut behind him, he heard some muffled voices and then silence.  Only a few seconds went by before the door was opening and someone was entering.  Before he could even begin to think about worrying over who it could be, they spoke.

     "It's me." Derek's voice came from the other side of the room. Stiles let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and was thankful that the wolf was back with him.  

     "Hey." Stiles said quietly.  Derek had placed himself on the chair that his father had been sitting in, but not before he leaned in to Stiles line of vision and place a gentle kiss to his cheek.  Blushing just slightly, Stiles listened to Derek settle into the chair.  "Were you outside the door all night?" 

     "Most of it. Though I did come in here for a couple hours."  Derek's calm voice responded.

     "Why?" Stiles asked honestly.  He had a suspicion as to why he would be in here with his father, but he wasn't 100% sure.

     "Your father...uh. He wanted to discuss some...things." Derek mumbled.  And with that, Stiles' guess would have been correct.  Groaning, Stiles closed his eyes to the limited vision he had.  

     "Oh my god, what did he say?" He asked.  Please for the love of all that is holy, please don't let his father scare Derek with being all 'I'm the Sheriff, damnit' thing he does sometimes. 

     "About how it was legal for him to carry a firearm as the sheriff." Derek breathed out. "And some general rules about quote, 'Being in a relationship with his still underage son.'"

     "Oh. My. God." Stiles groaned.  "I can't believe he cornered you about this."

     "It's fine, Stiles. I'm...I'm kind of glad you told him. You know. About us." Derek managed to get the words out, and Stiles wished he could see the man's face trying to form the sentences.  Having Derek outwardly admit that so quickly made Stiles feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.  He didn't even realize that he was worried about what Derek would think about Stiles telling his father about them without even asking the man first, but knowing that he was okay with it just made him feel so much better. 

      "Oh thank god.  He kind of ambushed me with it and I felt bad about not telling him after everything that has happened, and he seemed like he was actually okay with it and I wasn't thinking about whether or not you even wanted me to tell him so I am still sorry just in case you are secretly upset and-"

     "Stiles." Derek interrupted. "I promise it's alright." And for then, that was enough.  Stiles and Derek sat there for a little bit, Derek taking Stiles' pain a little bit (even after the boy's protest) resulting in him feeling much better than he thought he would.  It was as though his body was perpetually tense and sore, and he just seemed to get used to it.  Only when he was given more pain meds or Derek did his wolfy power thing, did he realize how much discomfort he was in. They were alone for longer than Stiles expected them to be, but he figured it was probably because his dad decided to let them have some alone time.  Part of Stiles blushed because of that, but the other part was thankful.  His dad was being more than accepting of the relationship, but the more logical part of Stiles thought it might be because of the situation they were both in right now.  What he thought about that, he wasn't sure. 

     The two sat together for a few minutes before the thoughts really started to get to Stiles.  The more he woke up, the more he started to realize that he wouldn't be able to stay in the hospital forever (not that he even wanted to).  He was beginning to think about what he would be in for when it came to healing.  How bad of shape _was_ his body in?  And more than that, Stiles started to think about the very thing he always tried to avoid thinking about: Tom.  He hadn't truly thought of the man since he had gotten to the hospital, and he had no clue what the hell was going on in that area.  

    When he managed to get up the courage to ask Derek how bad it was, the man was silent for a moment before he let him know what exactly was wrong with his body.  

     Which was a lot.  

     He was pretty aware of his ribs, throat, back, and nose, but the hand, stomach, concussion, and pretty much everything else was all news to him.  It sounded like he had gotten hit by a truck...which he guessed is what he felt like, anyways. 

     "How bad does it look?" He whispered.  

     "Stiles-" Derek began to object.

     "I want to know, Derek." Stiles pushed. "How bad does it look?" Derek was silent for an instant, probably gaining his thoughts.  The man was never a fan of talking, so being in this situation was probably uncomfortable for him,

     "It's...I don't know if I have ever seen something like this before.  I won't tell you the details because if I do, I might have issues controlling whether or not I go and attack the doctors for not making you better yet, but it's bad, Stiles." The voice that came from Derek was far more beaten than Stiles would ever have wanted to hear.  But underneath that distinct waver of sorrow, there was a fire that seemed to push the words out.  There was a fierce strength in Derek's voice that made Stiles think the man was not going to be very calm about whatever Stiles needed to do in the near future...whatever that entailed.  Derek was going to be a force to be reckoned with, and he was thankful he had him on his side.  Stiles wasn't exactly sure if he was going to be able to handle much of anything (emotionally or physically) so having the alpha at his side to stand as a protector of sorts was comforting.  

     But did that make him weak? Did needing to rely on Derek make him a pathetic person? 

     In some ways, no. But..in most ways, yes. At least that's how Stiles felt.  He knew he should be thinking otherwise, but it was pretty damn difficult for him to have any kind of positive thought at the moment.

     "You're not used to seeing us humans so fragile, huh?" Stiles half joked. Once Derek had even started to mention how it looked to him, he was glad the wolf didn't go into too much detail.  Having someone actually tell him how broken he appeared just made it all the more worse. 

     "You are not fragile." Derek rebutted, although it sounded like he was mostly talking to himself. Before they could discuss anything further, a light knocking came at the door.  Derek, seemingly not uncomfortable with the person on the other side, must have known it was his father before the man walked in.  Derek had greeted his father with a simple 'Sheriff' and his father had said nothing except that the coffee here was terrible.  Soon enough, Stiles could smell the aroma of overly bitter coffee fill the room.  He must have given Derek his own cup if the agreeing noise from the alpha was anything to go by. 

     "You're not wrong, Sir." Derek grimaced. Stiles was intending on asking his father about what kind of talk he had with Derek while he was sleeping, but his father didn't give him time to speak. 

     "I'm glad you're still awake, Son." His father spoke now from the other side of his floating body.  He had pulled the second chair up to the bed and he could just make out his form on the outskirts of his vision.  The golden ray of sun that had splashed onto the bed was not obscured by his father's shadow. "I have some good news, Kiddo." And with that, Stiles couldn't help the incredulous face that passed over him.  Good news? What the hell could be good news at this point?  As he stayed silent, his dad went on. "I ran into Melissa in the hall and she told me they think your back has held the stitches enough to where you can lay down."  

     Huh. That actually _was_ good news. Great news, in fact.

     "Oh thank God." Stiles sighed.  It was getting more and more uncomfortable for him to be strung up like a puppet. Plus, he wasn't sure how many times Derek could have the chance to even slip underneath the contraption so he could finally see someone for once.  They were lucky the first time, but Stiles doubted there would be many more opportunities. 

     "She wanted me to tell you before they came in to help.  But fair warning, kid, she said it means absolutely no moving without help." Not even waiting for a response from Stiles, he went on. "I mean it.  Your back is in seriously tender care right now.  The only reason you can lay on it now is because the stitches have reacted well to lack of pressure. Her words, not mine."  Stiles readily agreed, and it wasn't long before Melissa entered the room with a team of four other hospital workers, maybe more.  It was difficult to really count without seeing them.

     Getting stiles out of the sling was far more difficult than he imagined.  They had given him a small amount of pain medicine to help with the transition, but they soon discovered that they needed to up the dose if Stiles' whimpers were anything to go by.  Once or twice they had moved too quickly, causing a flare up either in his back or in his ribs, sometimes another body part, and the boy couldn't contain the yelp or gasp.  Soon enough, he was breathing hard, and he swore he heard a low growl coming from the corner of the room.  Clearly Derek wasn't happy with what was happening.  Neither was Stiles, but it would be worth it. He hoped. 

     He wasn't sure if it was because he blacked out for a moment, or the pain meds kicked in mercifully, but next thing he knew, he was laying on the very bed he felt he had been staring at for centuries. His back felt...strange.  It was sore, that was for sure, but he could tell that it wasn't as bad as it should be.  If the way the room was slightly fuzzy around the edges was anything to adhere to, the medicine was far better than he thought.  He wasn't as loopy as he usually was on the stuff, but there was definitely some help coming from whatever they had given him. Even still, he felt extremely tense or rather tight.  His entire back felt as though it had been pulled taught, like an animal skin over the barrel of a drum.  With each breath, he could feel the skin stretch slightly, reminding him of the many lines of stitches in his back. Yeah, moving wasn't even something he wanted to _think_ about yet. 

     Even Still, Melissa had stressed (multiple times) how important it was that he doesn't move.  If he happened to tear any of the stitches, they would have to move him back to the sling.  Stiles agreed with everything she said, not even feeling close to his normal sassy self.  Melissa had explained the new round of meds he would be on the next few days, as well as a general outline for starting physical therapy as soon as possible.  Once all was said and done, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, and left (though Stiles saw the comforting pat she gave to his father.)  

     And more than that, Stiles finally _saw_ his father. The man looked more tired than he had ever seen.  That wasn't true: he looked like he looked when his mom was sick.  The bags under his eyes were prominent and his hair was slightly in a disarray, clearly having had fingers ran through it.  Derek was already at his side as soon as Melissa had left, and Stiles found himself taking in every feature.  The man's scruff was slightly darker than he usually kept it: probably from the lack of time to shave. His eyebrows were pulled together in a slightly frustrated manner, but that was actually kind of normal.  But the Alpha's eyes were what was really keeping Stiles' attention.  They were so full of emotions, that Stiles couldn't pick them all out.  He could see remorse, relief, and a multitude of others.  

     "Hey." Derek murmured.  And that was what started the tears.  That single word had Stiles' eyes fill with water. 

     "Hi, there." Stiles responded, voice already thick.  Looking to his father, it was as though he was legitimately back in the moment he first 'saw' his dad since he got to the hospital.  While they had gotten a huge cry-fest over with already, seeing his father with his own eyes just brought him back to that moment, and he couldn't help but struggle to keep them contained. At this, his father stood on the other side of him and laid a hand on his own.  

     "It's alright."  Was all the sheriff said, and that was the end of the conversation.  Funny, how there had been a lot of those: conversations that ended quickly in silence.  The three men were quiet, and Stiles wouldn't lie by saying he didn't cry.  Thank god that it wasn't as bad as the first time, though.  Mostly, he was just thankful to finally see them both.  Going on hearing and limited touch was difficult enough. God, it was getting tiring crying all the time, but it seemed like Stiles couldn't escape it.  Thankfully enough, the meds really started to kick in and with all the excitement of moving onto the actual bed, Stiles started falling asleep.  Without much needed encouragement from his dad, he readily dozed off. 

***

     Waking up on an actual bed was a strange feeling, but welcome.  He was feeling only slightly groggy from the meds and the light coming in from the window made him think he hadn't been asleep for too long.  Derek noticed he had woken, and had placed a hand gently on Stiles' cheek.  

     "Hey." He said before removing his hand.  The wolf was still placed on the side of the bed closest to the door, and Stiles couldn't help but see the protective instinct behind that act. 

     "Hey." Stiles responded. "Where's my dad?" 

     "Right here." His father answered as he walked through the door again.  Behind him, Jordan Parrish followed.  The young deputy had always been one of Stiles' favorites ever since he joined the force in the past year or so.  The man had been a pleasant addition to the station, and he actually supported Stiles on the diet he tried keeping his father on. However, rather than the welcoming face he usually sported, Parrish seemed a little more somber. The man clearly was taken back slightly at seeing Stiles' shape, but he did well in not showing it too much.  Parrish stood at the end of the bed while Stiles' father sat back down on the empty chair on the other side of him.  

     "Parrish?" Stiles' asked, looking at his father confused. 

     "I tried to get them to wait as long as possible, but...but the station can't wait any longer, son." His father looked apologetic as he gently placed his hands over one of Stiles'.  Still not quite putting two and two together, but slowly getting there, Stiles looked back at Parrish.

     "If at all possible, Stiles...I would like to get your statement on what happened."  Parrish said with a steady voice.  He looked just as apologetic as his father, but he needed to get a job done, Stiles supposed. Not really having a choice in the matter, Stiles looked at Derek and then to his father, who apologized again.

     "I'm sorry, son, but we have actually waited longer than we should have.  If we don't do it now, things can get...difficult as we continue."  Without much else being able to even stall this from happening, Stiles nodded to Parrish.  This wasn't even on his radar to expect yet. To say he wasn't ready to talk about this was an understatement.  He didn't know how he would react to what Parrish would ask, he didn't even know _what_ Parrish would ask. Would he break down? Would he freak out? Taking a steadying breath, Stiles braced himself for whatever would happen. 

     "Alright, Stiles," Parrish began. "Lets get started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So happy to write again! 
> 
> A few things about the sheriff. I see a lot of "Derek is too old for you, Stiles!" on here, and that totally makes sense, but I wanted to try and do a different angle. That is why I added the slight age difference between him and his wife. Also, I understand why the sheriff is usually so "No sex and no touching!" all the time, but I figured I would make him slightly more understanding this time around. Besides, we all know, including the sheriff, that Stiles will do whatever he wants when it comes to that stuff, so he might as well be okay with it, haha. Just some info if you were interested!


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I think about how I once thought this fic would be lucky to reach 60,000 words. I don't even know how this happened.

     For a moment, it was as though everything had been put on pause.  The machines next to his bed had stopped making and sound.  There was no pulsating blips alerting everyone that Stiles was very much alive. There was no sharp, anxiety-rising single note saying he had actually died.  His father had stopped existing all together. Both he and Derek had ceased being in the room.  The bed was gone and Stiles felt himself completely leave any sense of reality.  His body was a shell that had hollowed out as soon as Parrish mentioned anything concerning talking about what happened.

     "Stiles?" 

     It was one thing to think about having to explain to someone how he ended up here but it was a completely other thing to actually do it.  He wasn't even sure he knew how to _think_ about what happened. He had spent so much time trying to ignore what he would have to say, and now it was too late.  He had kept telling himself that he would have to figure it out sooner or later, but it hadn't actually registered that sooner really meant _now_.

     "Stiles?"

     Because now he was expected to suddenly tell everyone what the hell had been happening the past week and what if that opened it up to more? What if they had to ask about other situations? Just how far back would this statement go? Was this the moment where he stopped getting away from keeping any of his secrets?

     " _Son_?" Finally, his father's voice broke into his mind and Stiles was pushed back into reality.  The noises and sensations he had apparently blocked out all came back to him, and realized he had been holding his breath.  Letting it out, he saw the look of concern from everyone in the room.  Derek seemed to have shifted towards the bed a little more, while his father had placed a hand on Stiles arm, gently.  Even Parrish was leaning forward on his chair, pen and paper ready, but not at his attention. 

     "What?" Stiles asked slightly numb.

     "Parrish, I don't think we should do this yet." His father turned his face towards the deputy, concern still focused on Stiles.

     "No." Stiles spoke up with some strength he didn't know he had. Maybe it was the fact that just because he wasn't ready, didn't mean he sometime would be.  Maybe if he did it now, it would be over sooner. "I..I can do this." He kind of had to, right? "You already said you waited longer than you should have." 

     "We can try to get it over with as quick as possible." His father supplied.  Stiles could tell this was pretty difficult for his father, too.  Looking at both his father and Derek, Stiles took a moment before glancing to Parrish and nodding slightly. Parrish nodded in response and sat a little straighter in his chair.  Clearing his throat, he began. 

     "Okay, Stiles, what is the last thing you remember before waking up in the hospital?"  Okay. He could do this one.

     "Uh," Stiles had to clear his throat as well.  His voice was still pretty damn hoarse from..everything. "Before or after Derek found me?" Depending on what Parrish meant, Stiles' answer would be different.  He wasn't trying to be sarcastic in any way, really, he just wanted to give the most truthful answer here.  

     "Both, I suppose.  But Derek is the one who found you?" Parrish developed the question further. 

     "Yes.  I remember calling him before, uh, passing out." He said with a small voice. "On the ride over I remember a few things. Nothing..major. Just some sounds, a few words here and there." Stiles cast his eyes over to Derek, who was looking at him with intense, but understanding eyes. 

     "Why did you call Derek?" Parrish nodded as he had written down the other information. 

     "Derek..uh." Stiles started to struggle a little bit with discussing what was happening.  Was he supposed to tell Parrish about the relationship? Could he say Derek had visited him in his room after a beating? How much is he allowed to and how much did he _want_ to tell him? "I had told Derek what had been happening." Stiles admitted.  He didn't mention what had lead him to telling Derek, what with the whole werewolf leaping into the room and finding his bruised body, happening. Plus, Stiles was actually planning on telling Derek about everything..probably. "He was the first person who came to my mind." He said honestly. Parrish wrote this down.

     "Okay. What happened?"  There it was. There was the one question that asked it all.  Stiles probably shouldn't have thought all the questions were going to be as easily answered as the first few.  Taking a breath, Stiles tried his best to be helpful.

     "I had planned on sneaking out of the house so I could go to Derek's loft and get help...I didn't really know what exactly was going to happen, but I wanted to get help." Stiles couldn't tell if he was talking to Parrish or his Father and Derek.  His eyes were flicking towards them all, honestly.  "My uncl–Tom." Stiles corrected himself out of habit. "Tom had called me down to make dinner.  We were sitting at the table and he was..." Stiles, again was having a difficult time deciding on what to say.  Could he say he had talked about his mother? Would that mean he needed to talk about how Tom was in love with her? "He was insulting me, and I guess I just got sick of it. I told him off and I went to my room. I..uh. I tried leaving through the window in my room. Made it to my jeep and everything, but the damn thing wouldn't start." Stiles found himself laugh at that last part, though without any real humor.  His father had told him to get it fixed and he had neglected to.  Just another reason he was a fuck up, he guessed. Glancing at his dad, he gave a small sad smile. His father only looked remorseful. 

     "And then?" Parrish prompted gently.

     "And then..Tom found me and pulled me back inside." Stiles supplied quietly. More than a few moments went by without any words.  Stiles just looked at his feet at the end of the bed without blinking for a while. After enough time had passed, Parrish pushed lightly.

     "Stiles?"

     "Right. Sorry." Stiles murmured. "He got me inside the house.  I was on the floor so he uh, he started to kick me." Not wanting to see either of Derek's or his father's reaction, he kept his eyes firmly set on his feet. "I ended up on my stomach when he had started to hit my face into the floor. I..I think that's when my nose broke, because the blood started to flow..." Stiles trailed off.  Talking more and more was getting increasingly difficult and it was getting to become more of a struggle to even speak.

     "Go on, Stiles.  But you can take your time." Parrish spoke softly.

     "He left me there for a second but when I tried to leave again, he came back.  I opened the door to get out, and he slammed it before I could get my hand out of the way-" Stiles broke off the sentence when his voice cracked. He had seen his father's face and seeing how broken he looked made it impossible to continue. There was so much pain there that it make Stiles sick.  He didn't know if he could ever discuss what had happened with his father still there.  Looking over at Derek, his father's face was there again.  The alpha looked just as upset as the sheriff, though it was slightly hidden behind a mask that Derek usually wore.  There was the scowl Derek usually had on his face, but Stiles could see the emotions underneath.  

     There was a part of Stiles that had hoped that if he just sped through it, he would be able to repeat what happened.  That recounting the whole situation would be manageable if he forced the words to stumble out of his mouth, forming hazardous sentences. It had worked until this point, but when the moment really counted (when it really started to get bad), the words stopped.  He sat there, opening his mouth and forming the beginning of words, but the sounds were snuffed out before he even had the fire behind them. He refused to let himself look back at his father or Derek, even when the former reassured him it was alright to talk. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but slowly Stiles could see Parrish's face change from expectation to concern.  He had placed the paper down in his lap and leaned forward, gentleness smoothing his already young face.  

     "Stiles?" Jordan asked softly.  "Do you need a minute?" There was that kindness in the man's voice that Stiles had always admired.  Jordan had always been the cop he would go to (outside his father) whenever he was in the station and needed anything.  He used to make his rounds throughout the department, but once he found out how kind the new recruit was, Stiles had often sought him out for help when his father was out on a case or simply unavailable. Shaking his head, Stiles forced himself to lock eyes with his father. 

     "I-I don't think I can do this...with you here." Stiles tumbled out. His father looked a tad hurt but more than anything, understanding flashed upon the sheriff's face.

     "Are you sure, son? I'm okay to hear this, I promise.  I'm not..I'm not going to be upset with you."  Stiles could tell his dad was looking for reasons that he didn't want him in the room when he talked to Jordan, and some of the thoughts he was going with were kind of right, but not all.  It was nice to know his dad was putting on a brave face for all of this and it was even more relieving to hear that he wasn't upset with Stiles.  But when it came down to it, Stiles wasn't sure he wanted his dad (or even Derek) to know the things Jordan was probably going to ask. Not yet, anyway.  After having a secret outed, the smallest details you can keep to yourself are the ones you cling to the hardest. Instead of answering his father verbally, Stiles just nodded assuredly. His father looked like he wanted to say something and he even opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to think twice about it and instead nodded as well (though a tad more reserved).  Turning his head towards Derek, Stiles took a breath before speaking. "I think I want you to leave, too.  But just for a minute." He tagged on the last part to the end because as much as he knew he didn't want Derek in the room either, he definitely wanted the wolf to come back quickly.  

     He felt safe around Derek but it wasn't like the wolf was his protector.  The man could probably keep him away from most dangers (supernatural or otherwise) but it honestly came down to a comfort thing.  Stiles felt at ease with the alpha and it made him feel more secure to have Derek next to him.  They had really bonded the past few weeks (hell, even years) and recognizing the relationship they always kind of had made him realize how much he craved to be near the man. Regardless, Derek needed to leave.  

     "Alright." Derek answered.  The man looked as though he had wanted to object, but something had stopped him from doing so and instead he went along with what Stiles had requested.  His dad gave a few more conflicted expressions and voiced his reassurances on how he would be just outside the door, but Derek had eventually managed to lead him out of the room without truly forcing his father to move.  Jordan and Stiles were finally alone, and they sat in silence far longer than Stiles expected them to.  Stiles focused himself on staying calm and controlling his breathing while Jordan seemed at ease to wait.  Again, having kept his eyes on his feet for the majority of the pause, Stiles looked up to the deputy who in turn gave a small nod before clicking his pen and placing it on the pad in front of him. 

     "You sad he had slammed your hand in the door?" Jordan supplied.  Stiles nodded to that and cleared his throat while trying to remember exactly what had happened. Each time he went over it in his head, the fuzzier the edges became. 

     "Yeah. Uh. It's..it's kind of hard to remember it all.." Stiles mumbled as he scrunched his eyes shut and focused on what had happened. 

     "It's alright, Stiles," Jordan supplied. "Whatever you tell me will be helpful, I promise." Stiles let out a long breathe. 

     "I remember somehow ending up in his bedroom. He was yelling at me about..I can't really..I just remember him yelling. Then my back was being hit." Stiles could only recall bits at this point, but there was the pretty memorable moment where his back began to sizzle with pain. 

     "He started to hit your back?" Jordan tried to clear up.

     "Well with a belt, not his hands." Stiles corrected a little further, and Jordan's writing paused for a moment before he continued. There were a few more seconds of Jordan writing after that, before he asked Stiles to go on. "Wait," the boy spoke "don't you want to ask more about the belt?" Stiles questioned.  Surely Jordan was surprised by this part, or he seemed like it by the break in his writing.  Stiles half expected him to start asking about if it was the first time Tom had used a belt, or if it was the same one every time, stuff like that, but he didn't. 

     "My main focus at this time is to hear your story on what happened, Stiles.  We can worry about that later." Jordan spoke confidently. The man had become an older brother figure to Stiles and he trusted the deputy.  If Jordan said they would deal with it later, then they would.  Besides, Stiles wasn't complaining about not having to mention other..instances yet. "Just tell me what you can remember from the other night and there will be plenty of time to talk about the past." 

     "He, uh..he was hitting me and I don't..I don't know what happened exactly.." Stiles head was starting to ache from going over this again, and he found himself more fuzzy on the events than he had expected.  It was like the further along he went into the night, the more he started to miss some pieces.  "He let me up or–no, no he didn't let me up: I got away again." Stiles corrected. "He chased me and we...I don't know, but I think we were by the stairs when I fell...or did he push me? I...I think he pushed me?" Shaking his head lightly, Stiles tried to clear his mind of the fog drifting in but he couldn't remember anything after a few vague images of him falling down the stairs. "I'm sorry, I can't..I don't remember anything after that.." Stiles let himself trail off, hoping it was enough for the deputy. Nodding reassuringly, Parrish stood up. 

     "That's alright, Stiles, this was more than helpful. I'm going to go out and talk with your father about the next couple of steps and then he will be back in here soon I'm sure."

     The deputy walked out the door after giving him a sympathetic smile and it wasn't a moment before Derek had made his way back into the room and had himself seated next to Stiles.  His eyes were gentle but his mouth was set firm. 

     "How much did you hear?" Stiles asked nervously. Derek shook his head minutely and placed his hand on top of Stiles'.

     "Nothing. You didn't want me to hear it." He answered easily.

     "Oh. Uh..thank you." Stiles let out a breath of relief, and Derek gave a curt nod in response.  His father may not have been able to eavesdrop as easily as a werewolf, but the alpha was far more than capable of listening in to Stiles' recount, so the teen was thankful that he had listened to his wish before stepping out into the hall.  "What now?"

     "Now you rest and recover. Your father and the pack can deal with everything else." Stiles didn't exactly know what Derek meant by that last part, but he supposed the man was right in saying he needed to rest. Even after just talking for a little while, he was already wanting to pass out again.  He and Derek spoke quietly for a little while longer before the wolf insisted he tried to get some more sleep.  As much as Stiles wanted to stay awake and simply _see_ the man next to him, sleep was on Derek's side, and he was drifting off even before he could argue against him. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the absence. I have been enjoying my freedom from school work and have been spending my time working as much as possible to help pay for upcoming expenses with sophomore year. So happy to get back into this. :]


	36. Chapter 36

     Stiles discovered very quickly that resting in a hospital didn't actually mean there was any "rest" happening.  He was woken up every few hours for some reason or another.  If it wasn't to check his blood pressure, it was to take a blood sample. If it wasn't either of those, it was some other annoying (though probably necessary) task one of the many nurses he had would need to accomplish.  Eventually, it seemed like this body had gained enough sleep to consider itself recharged and no longer desperate to clock out. He tried to sit up in his bed, but it was still far too difficult for him to accomplish much of any kind of movement he desired.  Grunting, he let himself lay where he was.

     "Is there anything I can do to help?" Stiles turned his face towards where Derek's voice had come from and shook his head in an answer. 

     "Unless you can somehow speed up my healing time, no." Stiles gave a half-ass attempt at a joke. "Joking, obviously. Don't even think about offering me the bite." Derek's mouth shut after he had opened it just after Stiles' first statement.  The boy had clearly caught onto the wolf's thought process and shut him down before anything could have came of it. 

     "Still sticking with your answer you gave Peter?" Derek asked.  He must have remembered his and Stiles' conversation they had had before about Peter offering him the bite, only to be rejected by the teen.

     "Yup. Still sticking to it." Stiles answered.  Maybe someday he would want to become a werewolf, but it wasn't now.  If anything, he didn't want to think about any kind of change in his life. There was enough happening already. Derek nodded, seemingly in understanding and without any judgement. Stiles noticed then, that they were alone in the room.  "My dad?" He asked simply. 

     "He is doing some more paperwork." Derek offered. "He said he would be back soon, and left only a couple minutes ago."

     "...What's going to happen now?" Stiles asked. If he was being honest, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. But that didn't mean he didn't _need_ to know. 

     "With your uncle?" Derek guessed. "I don't know." He answered earnestly. "Your father had mentioned that there were a few things to be taken care of, but Tom has been taken into custody and that they will be charging him with enough to keep him in jail long enough to plan the next step." 

     "So..what do I do?" He was confused as to what he could be doing now. Does he need to continue talking to Parrish about his experiences? Was his father going to talk with him more? Did he need to testify in any way? Wondering at all just made him think about all the other things to even consider.  Thoughts ran through his mind like cars speeding down the highway too fast for him to really comprehend. The possibility of his father's anger at him, his own self loathing, his relationship with Derek, the pack. 

     "You let everyone else worry about it. Just get better, okay?" Derek was, once again, a juxtaposition of his angry eyebrows but gentle words.  Stiles had noticed he really only did this type of expression when he was speaking with him.  Derek wasn't unkind with any of the pack, but he was really only ever gentle with Stiles.  However, they were all gifted with his eyebrow prowess.

     "I missed your eyebrows" Stiles sighed.  Derek was clearly taken aback by this, as those very same eyebrows rose on his forehead. 

     "What?" He deadpanned.

     "Your eyebrows. I missed them.  I have been so drugged up lately that I haven't had time to really appreciate them like I usually can." At that, Stiles received a signature eye roll from the alpha.  "Oh please. Don't even try to be intimidating right now. I missed you and your eyebrows. Get over it. " Stiles smiled.

     "I missed you, too, but not your sass." Derek quipped as the corners of his mouth turned upright. "Though just to be clear, we literally have not been apart for a while now." Derek clarified as he shifted his chair much closer to the bed and rested his elbow on the mattress and his head on his hand. Those ever changing kaleidoscope eyes stared right into Stiles. 

     "You can be with someone and still miss them, Derek." At that, Derek lifted his head off his hand and leaned into kiss Stiles on the lips. Soft, but sure. A silent response. 

***

     Stiles was told (again) by Parrish, Derek, and his father when he returned, that he really need not worry about what happens next. He had asked about how Tom had been taken into custody, but both Derek and his father seemed to be hiding something. While he at first wanted to press and find out what it was, he decided that some things were probably just better off not known by him. At least not for a long time. Eventually, he let himself believe those around him, and just let his mind and body focus on healing. And so the process really began.

***

     Parrish never did come back in uniform. He suspected the deputy was kept away thanks to his father, but also due to his own wish to keep Stiles oblivious as long as possible. He had, however, visited a few times. They would sit and chat about the old Twilight Zone episodes or discuss his father's most embarrassing moments, and things of that nature. It was comforting to have someone there who only ever talked about light hearted things.  It was a much welcome break from the severity of his situation.  

***

     Derek never once left his side. Of course there were the obvious times where the wolf needed to go to the bathroom or get food or shower, but other than the necessary times, Derek was in the room. They didn't always talk. Well, let's be honest here: Stiles didn't always talk, so the room was a comfortable silence every now and then. Derek would supply conversation, yes, but the wolf had always had a talent for nonverbal skills.  They were both constantly happy to be around each other.  Stiles could still feel the emotional cocktail inside Derek, but that was expected. Stiles would probably be handling it a lot worse if he was in Derek's situation, and he was grateful he was being so supportive. If anything, their relationship strengthened more and more as the days went by. They eventually started to banter back and forth like they usually did, and Stiles found himself blushing more than once in a conversation with his wolf. He even caught Derek's ears turning red once or twice.  

***

     His father was almost there as often as Derek was, and that is impressive considering he was still the Sheriff and had a city to watch over. When the man wasn't working, he was most likely at Stiles' side, reading the newspaper or falling asleep _pretending_ he was reading the newspaper. The first few days were spent with them both crying more than they wanted to, and some conversations that desperately needed to happen (as well as talked about how many _other_ talks needed to take place), but they were starting to do better.  They both had a lot of guilt to deal with, but they had at least established how much they loved each other, and for now, that was all that needed to happen. 

***

     The doctors said he was making great process.  He was able to sit up more and more on his own as the days went by, and after one week, he was feeling exceptionally better than he did at the beginning. Of course, he felt like death's chew toy at the beginning, so it didn't take much to be "better", but progress was progress, he supposed. There were many more medical leaps he needed to make, but he was able to breathe without it feeling like a knife was being joyously shoved in his chest, so that was a plus. 

     The pack had come to see him, as well. They came in at once time for the first visit and there was an embarrassing amount of crying that happened. Stiles was still struggling with all of the feelings he had felt which prevented him from seeking help all these years, but it was such a weight off his shoulders to see his friends care for him. Erica was a sobbing mess, as was Allison. Boyd kept having to turn his head away to regain himself, and Lydia kept stating that waterproof mascara was a gift from god as she waved at her eyes to keep them from getting too teared up. He even caught Jackson clearing his throat and sniffling a few times.  His relationships with them were stronger than ever and it was difficult for him to grasp the idea that he could have been wrong about his situation all these years. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Tom's words weren't true. Derek had helped him doubt Tom, and now all these other people claiming the same thing as Derek only made Stiles consider the fact that he was more loved than he expected. 

     They would visit him almost every day after or before school, and often times the hospital room was looking pretty cramped. After one particularly crowded visit in the afternoon, Stiles and Derek were left alone as his father walked the visitors out of the hospital. Sighing, he looked over at Derek who was blank faced. As usual.

     "I didn't think this would happen." Stiles said softly. 

     "What do you mean?" Derek asked equally as quiet as he took Stiles' hand. "You didn't think you would end up here?" 

     "No. Well yes, I guess I'm not surprised I ended up in the hospital, but..." Stiles trailed off not really sure how to explain it. Looking into Derek's eyes, he saw the colors swimming in them.  How peaceful his irises were while they held his gaze. So gentle and welcoming with Stiles, while defiant, confident and flooded with red while facing anyone he saw as an enemy to his pack. 

     "But...?" Derek prompted, rubbing a thumb on the back of Stiles' hand. 

     "But I didn't..I guess I didn't think I would be...be forgiven." He wasn't sure the last word was the best to use, but it was the only one that came to his mind. 

     "There is nothing to be forgiven for." Derek answered easily and earnestly. Stiles had heard people say this sort of thing over and over. And he was trying to believe it, and sometimes he did, but for the most part, it was hard for him to suddenly rewire the way he saw his self worth. So he just closed his eyes and gave a small smile in hopes it conveyed those thoughts. "Remember when you told me the fire wasn't my fault?" Stiles opened his eyes at the mention of the fire that killed so many of Derek's family.

     "Which time? I know I have had to have told you that a million times." Stiles responded. Derek gave a small fond shake of his head.

     "Any of them. Do you remember what it felt like-what it _feels_ like to have me deny what you said to me?" Stiles nodded. Every time Derek would deny his lack of responsibility for the fire, Stiles' heart would break a thousand times over for Derek. His stomach would clench in anger at Kate for ruining this part of Derek's soul. His own spirit cried for the sake of Derek's self hatred. "Then you should know what I feel, what we all feel, when you deny what we are telling you." They locked eyes at this and it was Stiles who had to look away out of fear of the tears which would come if he held the gaze much longer. "I still have trouble believing all you said. I still sometimes think it was my fault that my family burned." Stiles opened his mouth to protest but he didn't get the chance. "But there are times where I am lucid enough to see I was not at fault. I was a victim and I am still a victim of the past.  But you've told me over and over how much you care for me and how you will never stop reminding me of the truth. And we will do the same for you." He gave Stiles' hand a small squeeze. "You will probably never fully forgive yourself. At least not for a while. I didn't start seeing the truth for myself until you turned up in my life. But you will always have us to remind you there is nothing which needs to be forgiven." 

     Stiles gave a small sob of a laugh when Derek closed his mouth. The kind that was an expression of happiness and sadness at the same time.  He was so thankful for Derek and for his pack and how he somehow hit the lottery with the people around him. He was so grateful for the fact that somehow Derek always seemed to conquer his hatred of talking when it came to Stiles. Pulling their intertwined hands up to his mouth, Stiles kissed the back of Derek's in a thank you.

     "I guess I am just surprised so many of the pack visit me. And not just once." He smiled gently. Derek nodded understandingly and gave a similar small smile. But then another thought occurred to Stiles. "Except I guess.."

     "Except you guess...what?"

     "Except for Scott." Stiles answered in a murmur. Derek gave a small, empathetic noise of agreement at that. And this time it was his turn to kiss the back of Stiles' hand.

     Parrish had showed up many times.  The pack even more than him. His father almost never left, and Derek was nearly constantly in his sight. But Scott was yet to be seen. It had been a little over a week and Scott still hadn't even visited once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone.
> 
> I know it has been a really long time since I last updated, and I want to say sorry. I haven't forgotten about this fic, and I do still plan on finishing it, but my life has been a little...interesting as of late. I was actually forced to take a medical withdraw from college. I was hospitalized for an extended amount of time after I contracted a very rare illness which basically left me out of commission for a long while. That being said, I am very lucky in that I have recovered (relatively) quickly for my type of situation, and I have been going through some intensive physical therapy to help me get back to my normal life. I don't want any of you to think I have abandoned this story, but I know I have to put my own health above anything else in my life right now, and that means I had to take a pretty long break from any kind of social media platform (this included). I will try my very best to continue updating, but I cannot guarantee there will not be another break in posts like this last one. Thank you all for being so patient with me.


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